Kriegcraft
by Uncle WAAAGH
Summary: The Death Korps are sent in to deal with a chaos incursion. A grenadier of the Fifth Death Korps of Krieg Siege Regiment, is about to die, when by a cruel twist of luck, he is sucked into alternate universe, where heresy, mutants, and xenos run freely. Will he be able to cope, knowing that their is no emperor by his side? Rated M for Warhammer. Now Completed.
1. Chapter 1: Grenadier's Duty

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!

So this is my first crossover fanfiction, so I may get a few things wrong

(Please don't burn me at the stake if I get some lore things wrong.)

Also, first time properly using breaks. Amazing right?

Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

The planet of Mystikos Prime. A thriving agri world, that happily paid the annual tithe to the imperium. Its main exports were fruits and vegetables, vast fields of crops, farmers working happily. Heresy levels were so low, they were practically nonexistent. A shining example of the finest of the Imperium, and systems for light years away tried to replicate the seemingly utopia of Mystikos Prime, but they all failed.

But it all changed, when the Black Legion came.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a warband of Black Legion sorcerers, berserkers, cultists, and monstrous chaos space marines attacked the system, and Mystikos prime. The Black Legion struck, dealing a devastating blow to the PDF, and soon seized control, only for a distress signal to be sent. The shining example of Mystikos Prime had fallen to the ruinous powers. The Imperium responded, by sending not only the closest Imperial Guard Regiment, but the most feared.

The Death Korps of Krieg.

Grenadier 652733-172948 'Klaus' of the 5th Death Korps of Krieg Siege Regiment, charged forward with the rest of his squadron, flanking the setup havoc team, which cackled, as heavy bolters scythed through guardsmen. They rushed out of the building next to the havocs, lighting up the chaos havoc team. The havoc carrying the heavy bolter turned around, and dozens of las beams obliterated the power armor, leaving the corpse inside a charred ruin. The two attendant chaos space marines turned around, firing their bolters. A few grenadiers flew back, the bolters making fist sized holes in their chests, but Klaus did not hesitate, as he fired the hellgun again. The bolt got lucky, hitting the space marine right in the breathing grill, as it fell, completely silent, the las bolt burning a hole through its mouth and neck. The final space marine dove into cover, along with the rest of the grenadiers. Klaus pulled a pin off of his grenade, and chucked it. The chaos marine rolled out of cover, only to be incinerated by a melta. The Grenadiers said no word of solace to their dead comrades, as more Krieg Guardsmen rushed forward, no longer pinned down by the havoc squad. The commissar only nodded to Klaus, and he saluted, clicking his heels, before the squadron once again disappeared through the ruins of the capital city.

Klaus and the grenadiers came across a door, and on the other side, they could hear enemy activity. Klaus held up his hand, showing all five of his gloved fingers. He put his helmet against the wooden door, listening intently.

"Here come the loyalists! Prepared to die, like lambs to the slaughter! Come brothers, let us give them what they wish for!" A voice cackled. Klaus's fingers formed back into a fist, and a grenadier kicked the door down, lighting up the hallway with lasfire. Several cultists screamed, the las fire incinerating their robes, the holes in their heads and vital organs cauterising instantly. A leman russ rolled down the road from the window, only for it to explode, as a lascannon bolt seared through the pilot's cockpit. Klaus only frowned. They should have waited for infantry reinforcement. Klaus then waved the grenadiers forward, as they jumped out of a window, falling five feet to the ground. They knew their mission. A chaos sorcerer and his lackeys were doing foul sorceries, and it was up to the grenadiers to stop them. They crept through the ruins of the city, passing corpses of guardsmen, heretics and civilians alike, silently stabbing the mutants operating the lascannons, as a few squads worth of Guardsmen engaged a squad of chaos space marines. They left the Guardsmen to clean up the rest of the heretics, as the grenadiers breached the lightly guarded church, whistling artillery destroying the streets. A grenadier fell, as shrapnel obliterated his armor, but Klaus did not even glance at his fallen comrade, as they breached the door, killing the chaos space marines that guarded the door. Soon, only Klaus and five of the original twenty grenadiers remained, as they encountered the heretics. The sorcerer and the cultists turned, but the sorcerer only chuckled.

"Keep chanting." The sorcerer barked, and the cultists obeyed, bowing to the dark gods. Klaus pointed at the chanting cultists, and the grenadiers open fired, the cultists squealing as they died. The sorcerer growled.

"Enough of this. If you wish to die, then so be it." He growled, as doombolts flung out of his hand, killing the grenadiers, flesh running like gruel off of their shattered bones. Klaus rolled out of the way, the doombolts obliterating his comrades. Klaus was the only one who had survived, but the sorcerer ignored this, thinking he was on the verge of death. A heavy, almost crushing weight fell upon Klaus, who grasped his bleeding leg. Luckily, his other, prosthetic leg was the one closer to the barrage, and it survived nearly unscathed, although Klaus knew he would have to pray later. The sorcerer began chanting, and a rift from the warp cut through realspace like paper. Klaus growled. A portal. That was what the sorcerer was doing. Klaus slowly creeped forward, ignoring the searing pain in his leg, the seemingly random pressure trying to push him down. But he would not comply. For he was Krieg, and Krieg never surrendered. They would rather die. He threw down his now useless hellgun, taking a lasgun from a fallen grenadier, creeping forward. He was within striking distance, but the gun would not fire. Finally, the foolish sorcerer turned around and squealed.

"FOOL! If you kill me, then we will all be swallowed by the warp!" The sorcerer squealed, for now he knew he was trapped. If he tried to even for a split second, take his attention off the portal, it would explode, killing them all.

"DON'T DO IT!" The sorcerer yelped, as Klaus came closer and closer. Finally, he plunged the bayonet into the sorcerer's stomach.

"ARROGANT LOYALIST! WE WILL ALL DIE FOR YOUR INSOLENCE!" The sorcerer sputtered, the rift squealing, the sound like forks on china plates, but Klaus leaned into the filthy heretic, digging the bayonet deeper, digging into the heretics spinal cord, before he ripped the lasgun out, putting the strap over his back.

"Then so be it." Klaus whispered, as the rift imploded, sucking them both into the warp rift.

Klaus drifted through the warp. He did not dare to open his eyes, as he felt daemons touch him, slavering over him, even though he was fully dressed in greatcoat and carapace armor, Klaus shivered at their touch. They whispered things into his ears. Like wolves set on a babe, they circled around him, snapping at his body. Any lesser man would have been insane at this point, but Klaus would give the foul daemons no satisfaction. He floated through nothingness, almost like in the vacuum of space. Klaus started to recite prayers to the emperor. The daemons squealed and snarled at him as he prayed. Klaus on the inside was smiling. Let the foul daemons squirm. If they wanted to devour him, then he would die with holy prayers on his lips, praying that he would be at the emperor's side when he died. He knew that he would die. Not only was he in the warp, but he was a grenadier. A grenadier's life was to die, it was his duty, his mission, to die for the emperor, and for mankind, fighting back the mutants, xenos, and heretics that laid siege to the Imperium of Man. Suddenly, he felt something tug at him, but it was no daemon. The daemons howled, and for once in his life, Klaus was confused. Daemons were not known to spare their victims. Perhaps a bigger daemon had taken him, or worse yet, the foul, dark, gods? Then he had been knocked unconscious, the last feeling he felt was the impact of solid ground.

The merchant caravan was crawling along rather slowly. Haylee Brandon let out a sigh, idly looking through a spellbook. They had found an ancient tomb, and after pilfering it of artifacts, they were returning to Theramore, the human stronghold of Kalimdor. Surely, the artifacts would prove to be of interest to plenty of merchants. The caravan of ten humans, dwarves, and high elves sat idly, the mules taking their sweet ass time (Eyy, that's pretty good. Don't kill me.)

"Whatcha lookin at laddie?" Irondus Dirgeore said, sitting next to her. She sighed. Dwarves could be so nosey sometimes, although she knew Gnomes were even worse.

"It's goddamn boring around here." She sighed, Irondus let out a little chuckle, gesturing that he wanted to look at the spellbook. She obliged, handing the spellbook to him. He flipped through the pages, grinning.

"What's so funny?" She demanded, slightly blushing. The dwarf gave her a toothy grin, before looking back at the spellbook, casually flipping through the pages.

"You better watch out. These days, they ain't just conscripting men to fight the horde and legion these days. Maybe things will be less boring, when yer cleaving an orcs head off." He chuckled, before a particular page spiked his interest. He peered at it hard, Haylee looking down at the dwarf.

"What is it?" She asked casually, Irondus stroking his red beard, who he kept in prestigious condition, filled with braids and beads.

"Look at this." He said, showing the page in the spellbook. She looked at the symbol, which looked like a double headed eagle, along with it, was an eight pointed star.

"What's so interesting?" She said, Irondus sighed, looking at the symbol, trying to decipher the words underneath.

"I've been looting these ancient temples for ten years. I have never seen a symbol like this before." He replied. Now Haylee was thinking about it. Surely a dwarf with such amounts of experience would have seen something like it, but why, out out of all things, would have it been in a spellbook? The spellbook itself was filled with rather boring spells, the usual, but this caught her off guard.

"Does it say anything underneath it?" She asked. Irondus nodded, before he started saying something.

"Ut veniat tempus advenerit, et in suam. Purgandos immundus et profanus ut ardeam, proditores occidendum. Utriusque partis Azeroth sit amet, sub vexillo una. Vexillo iustitiae. Surge, iuvenes, quia venit tempus. Surge, et ducunt." He repeated, a look of confusion on his face.. Suddenly, the air got heavier and colder, the sky darker. The mules screeched, coming to a sudden halt. Something was definitely amiss here.

"What have you done?" Haylee squealed, as aside the caravan, a gaping maw to a realm unknown opened, squealing horribly. A creature fell out of the rift, the portal sealing shut behind it. Irondus raised his axe, and the rest of the caravan took out their weapons, all looking at the thing. The thing did not rise, and it didn't even look like it was moving. Irondus leaped out of the cart, and came closer and closer, brandishing the axe.

"Wait! Don't kill it!" Haylee demanded, as she came to Irondus's side. The merchants and traders looked down at the fallen figure, before Haylee prodded it with her shoe. It didn't even move.

"Why dun we lift em up?" Irondus said, as the merchants carefully lifted the thing up, setting it down on a pile of hay.

"What… what is that?" Kevin Browning asked, and they all murmured in agreement. A skull face mask glared back at them, still not moving. It was dressed in a thick black trench coat, armor plating on its chest, knees and shoulders. Gold tinted lenses stared idly back at the merchants, a thick tube coming out of the mask, snaking along its shoulder and down its back. A small backpack was attached to its back, and a strange looking weapon was carried on its back. Haylee pushed back the greatcoats sleeve, and the undergarments, putting her fingers on its pale wrist.

"Well whatever it is, it's alive." She declared, this got the group even more anxious.

"Unconscious?" Irondus asked her. She shrugged, looking at the masked creature.

"That's what I would think." Haylee responded. The merchants looked amongst each other, trying to figure out what to do. The sky returned to its normal color, and slowly, the heavy and cold air lightened up, and became hotter once more.

"We kill it?" Kevin asked, but they weren't too sure.

"Maybe we turn hand it over to a mage, or something. Maybe they would know what this thing is?" Irondus suggested. Most of the merchants could agree with this, and lowered their weapons. The only one who didn't was Kevin, still holding his ornate spear at the things throat.

"Lets take off its mask before we do anything. I wouldn't want to spare anything that I don't know what it is." Kevin suggested. At this, the merchants agreed with this as well. Haylee sighed, slipping her fingers over the helmet, carefully taking it off. They were greeted with jet black hair, with several grey patches. Haylee kept going lower, as she played with the straps that held the mask against its face, until finally, the straps loosened up, and slipped off. They gasped. What greeted them was a teenager, still asleep.

"A lil boy?" Irondus said in wonder, the merchants still gaping. They had expected a demon of some sorts, or maybe a spirit or something, but not a… _teenager…_

"Well… Get the caravan moving. I say we give him to proudmoore, and see maybe she would see what to do." Kevin suggested. Jaina Proudmoore was one of the most wisest mages in the entire alliance. Perhaps she had seen this strange… thing… before.

Klaus opened his eyes groggily. By the emperor himself, did he feel awful. He just felt like he got run over by a baneblade, and then shot with a demolisher cannon. He rubbed his eyes, and then he realised that he was rubbing his eyes, and not the lenses of his gasmask. He took a quick breath, and instead of the familiar, and comfortable metallic tinge to the air, he gulped in fresh, clean air. A rare occurrence to encounter in the Imperium. He slowly rose, looking at the area around him. He glanced at beautiful forests, small tranquil rivers running through the ground. Beautiful flowers gleamed at him, begging for him to play with them. Woodland critters glanced at him, before moving on. A stag in particular was bold and got close, but Klaus only stared at it with his bland glance, and it walked away.

"He's awake!" A voice said, and then Klaus realised that not only was he moving, but he was in a cart, moving along slowly. He looked around, the sunlight blinding him. He shielded his eyes, before he saw who was talking to him. A fair woman glanced at him, dressed in civilian clothing. She smiled at him, but he did not return it to him. Then he realised that others were behind him, also humans, but then one thing caught his glance. A foul xeno! It looked like an eldar, mischievous pointed ear humanoids who did nothing but deceive and trick people, all for their own cause. But the key word was looked. It bore no clothing and armor that an eldar would, and its ears weren't as short as an eldars. So he was dealing with heretics, who consorted with xenos. His hand went to his lasgun, when he realized it wasn't there. He went to his combat knife, shovel, anything. They weren't there either.

"Looking for this?" A squat looking abhuman said, lifting his lasgun and satchel. His face remained impassive, but inside, he was seething. How dare these filthy xenos, heretics, and mutants go through his bag! His! He would engage, but he realized that not only was he outnumbered, but they had weapons as well. His training tried to tell him to ignore that fact. He should be killing them, now! So what if he died? It was for the emperor! But logic told him to stay his hand. No doubt his captors would try to interrogate him, and not only that, but he was on an unidentified world. He had no idea what allegiance they were under, although he expected tau. But that was quickly crossed out. The tau would not stand for using wooden carts for transportation.

"What's your name?" The woman asked him. He sighed. He had a plan. For now, he would play along with their game, but when their backs were turned, he would run and escape! Then, he would contact the inquisition, and they would declare exterminatus on these foul traitors. He smiled on the inside, as he would ask to press the BLAM! Button himself.

"I am Grenadier 652733-172948 'Klaus', of the 5th Death Korps of Krieg Siege Regiment" He responded. The assorted heretics looked confused, looking among each other.

"Laddie. We asked for a name, not a number." The squat said.

"Your point being?" Klaus responded, his icy stare catching the squat by surprise. Maybe now, he would shut the frak up.

"How old are you, Klaus?" The woman asked him. Personal information was not as important as Designation Information. If they started asking about his mission, or how he got here, he would not answer.

"Eighteen." He replied calmly, the merchants now gaping, like fish out of the water. This slightly confused Klaus. The Death Korps of Krieg were legend, used to scare children not to do bad things, otherwise, the Death Korps would swoop you up! How had the heretics not heard of him, and more demanding, why weren't they scared of him? He decided they were lacking intelligence.

"And… how did you get here?" She asked. Ah hah! Now his opponent's intentions were revealed! They wanted information out of him! Well he would not answer! Nothing they could do would make him! He gave them that impassive look, hoping that they would frak off. But they didn't. It was like this for ten minutes, until finally, the silence was interrupted.

"We're here!" A merchant yelled, and most of them got out of his line of sight, the woman still sizing him up. Klaus wanted to laugh. The woman had tried to make herself seem intimidating, but she instead looked pathetic. The stupid heretic, but he quickly realized as the caravan was pushed through the gates, that she was staring at him on purpose. She thought that the first chance he could get, he would run off! Well she wasn't wrong, that was his intention. For the first time, he looked around, and realized with escalating horror something was VERY VERY WRONG.

XENOS! XENOS, as far as he could see! HERETICS! MUTANTS! They were everywhere! They lived among each other like they didn't mind! Klaus held off the bile rising to his throat, swallowing it down. He would press that BLAM button until nothing remained of this warp damned planet!

"Alright Heretic! I have had enough of these games! You will tell me where I am, and where the nearest Imperial outpost is, or by the golden throne itself, I will strangle you, along with every xeno and heretic here!" Klaus threatened. The woman didn't even seem shocked! Klaus's face slightly twitched, along with his hands, which were balled into fists. This heretic was either the most bravest, or stupidest heretic he had ever seen! He bit his lips, until blood started dripping from his mouth freely.

"Your uh… Your bleeding." The woman said, but Klaus never even acknowledged her comment, staring at her with pure hatred. His cold blue eyes followed the filthy heretic, as she got off, and… and… offered her hand? Klaus spat in his glove while she wasn't looking, and she took it. The woman seemed slightly repulsed when she felt the saliva all over her filthy hand, as she lowered Klaus to the ground. Klaus wanted to kill her. No, killing her would be too quick. He would TORTURE HER.

Haylee was rather unnerved by the cold and furious glance that Klaus gave her, but she didn't cave in. She still had a duty to do.

"Aye! Kevin told Proudmoore that we had something to show her. I got his satchel. You have the spellbook?" Irondus asked her. Haylee waved it in her hand, and Klaus merely glanced at the spellbook. Irondus looked up to Klaus, and in return, Klaus looked down upon the dwarf.

"Filthy Mutant…" Klaus growled, moving forward, following Haylee. Irondus sighed. Culture Shock at its finest. The three walked along, but Irondus grasped the handle of his axe, more tighter than usual. Sure, their were your average thieves around here, but even then, Klaus didn't seem trustworthy. Although his face was plain, and calm, he could read his emotions like a book. Klaus was angry. Furious. Seething. Irondus hoped that he could defuse the situation, before it got out of hand. They soon reached the fort of the center of the island. The two guards outside halted them.

"We are here to see Jaina Proudmoore." Haylee said simply. When they asked for proof, she handed them a document from Irondus, who had gotten it from Kevin. The two guards glanced at Klaus, clinking their shields, and in return, Klaus slowly gave them that same icy stare. They waved them forward, eager not to see the strange person again.

Jaina reread the reports once again. It seemed nearly impossible, but it happened, no? Apparently, a caravan of merchants, who had "uncovered" a few artifacts from a tomb, were on their way to theramore, when one of them accidentally opened to a portal to an unknown realm, summoned some eighteen year old boy in military gear, and had been silent ever since? Jaina sighed, rubbing her forehead, which was throbbing at this point. Things got weirder and weirder as time moved on.

"Miss Proudmoore. The merchants are here to see you." A guard said, coming up to her throne. She sighed.

"Let them in. I want to get this done already." She sighed. The doors to the throne room creaked open, and the small band of merchants came in, followed by the mysterious boy. She took a good long look at him, his icy blue eyes staring impassively at Jaina.

"And who may you be?" Jaina asked politely, looking at him, with a little smirk on her face. The figure did not move, or even blink, still glancing at her. Jaina sighed. So it was going to be one of these days huh? She stepped down from her throne, walking up to him slowly, her staff clicking on the floor, as she came face to face with him.

"So you are a psyker?" He asked her, and Jaina was confused? Psyker? What the hell did that mean?

"You mean… sorcerer?" She offered helpfully, and he only snorted. Jaina had to give credit where it was due. This guy was the most rudest person she knew, and she knew orcs.

"Typical of psykers. Trying to hide their mutation under a different name. Like it or not, you are a psyker. If you intend to get information from me, then you will fail. Miserably." He growled, almost reading her mind. A small group of guards surrounded them, sensing the oncoming fight.

"Torture will not affect me. Your foul warpcraft will not affect me. Try as you might, but I am a Krieg. Kriegs would rather die than give information to heretics, especially of your kind." He snarled, and then to prove his point, let out a gob of spit at Jaina's face. She wiped it slowly off of her face, furious. It was often hard to get Jaina mad. Very few have. This individual had done it in less than ten seconds flat. Not only did he insult her, and call her a psyker, whatever that meant anyway. He also spit in her face, and called her a heretic. That was it.

"Alright, listen up. I am no heretic, and I am no ps-" She said, before he interrupted her yet again.

"You are a heretic. You willingly consort with xenos, and mutants. The god emperor of mankind decrees that all heretics, xenos, and mutants must be purged, crushed underneath the heel of mankind. You are also a psyker, for this mutant" he said, pointing at the dwarf "Told me that you are the most powerful human sorceress of this wretched land you call Azeroth. I do not care for your title or rank, for you are a heretic. I demand knowledge of the nearest Imperial outpost, so we can properly cleanse you of heresy with the only way that we know. With fire and guile." He finished, before leaning in, and whispering so quietly that she could barely hear her.

"And one last thing. Your apparel for being a psyker is rather revealing. Do you invite other heretics to look at your form?" He whispered, before pulling back. Jaina was enraged, and confused at the same time. People respected Jaina, because she was calm, and understanding. None of these traits arose. She wanted to kill him. She really did. But at the same time, he could have possible information about other realms worth investigating, and with a quick glance of his gear, he seemed to be rather smart, and indispensable.

"There is no Imperium of Man… care to elaborate?" Jaina asked. He twitched at this. She hit a nerve.

"The Imperium of Man is an empire of holy righteousness that spans for thousands of miles across. Trillions of soldiers ready to give everything up for the betterment of mankind. From the lowly PDF to the legendary god like, Adeptus Astartes, the Imperium of Man is the one true ruler of the stars." He elaborated, still with that damn blank face on, that showed no hint of emotion. Suddenly, he asked something she had never expected.

"What year is it?" He said plainly. Jaina frowned at this

"626..." She said cautiously. **(AUTHORS NOTE: The timeline of Warcraft is very… loose… The story takes place in Wrath of the Lich King, but because the timeline is unofficial, I had to use the world of warcraft wiki timeline. I profusely apologize if I get time line things wrong.)***

He froze. Jaina looked at him. If she hit a nerve before, she must have severed one now.

"What millenia is it?" He asked again, only for Jaina to sigh.

"Less than a millennia." She responded. He twitched, his steadfast expression disappearing for a few moments, but a few moments was enough. Jaina saw something. Fear.

"Impossible. You… You lie!" He roared, raising a gloved fist, as the guards from the circle seized him, holding him down to the ground. He struggled, screaming more curses then Jaina knew. And she knew orcs.

"Enough! Guards! Take him to the dungeon. I will oversee his… interrogation." Jaina ordered. The calm, yet stubborn figure she had been talking to for the past few moments melted away, turning into a snarling, cornered beast.

"YOU FILTHY HERETIC! I WILL PERSONALLY STRANGLE EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU HERETICS, XENOS, AND MUTANTS, BEFORE I PERSONALLY BURN THIS CITY TO ASH! YOU HEAR ME!" He roared, as he was dragged away, struggling with the guards who tried their best to drag him away, but he was proving too strong.

"Knock em out." One of the guards snarled, and one of them started beating him, and Jaina winced. The guards of theramore had a lot of anger bottled up. Now they got to use it.


	2. Chapter 2: The Dungeons

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So I've been getting a lot of support with this, and I am pleasantly pleased.

Sorry this chapter is a bit short, but I wanted to keep it all in one section.

As so, like some authors do, I guess I will be answering your reviews. This will be at the end of each chapter. Your reviews can be questions, as I don't mind.

Note that i do not own Warhammer 40K or Warcraft.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

Klaus sneered, jeering at the form of Jaina from the bars of his cell. It had been nearly a week now, and they still had forced nothing out of him. The watchmasters at Krieg would have been proud. At first, they tried to do it nicely, trying to humor him with rather failed attempts, but he did not cave in. Then they tried intimidation, but that did not work either. One of the interrogators even slammed him against the wall, but he ignored the pain, for pain was only temporary. Then they tried physical punishment. Finally, things actually got exciting! He had missed the rush of adrenaline coursing through his body. Every other hour, they gave him ten or twenty lashes, or sometimes beatings, but he did not talk. He did not even cry out in pain, and give them satisfaction. On Krieg, even the slightest offense was punished by a hundred lashes. Here came the next interrogator. Klaus let out a small chuckle, as the interrogator carefully opened the gate to his cell. It looked like one of those "elves" he had seen before, only instead of white skin, it was light purple. Green hair was tied into a ponytail, laced with leaves and weeds. He so badly wanted to strike her for being not only a xeno, but weak, for allowing plants to grow in her hair. It wasn't like Klaus could even move, which severely limited his options of beating said xeno. Every time an interrogator left, he had been tied up in the chair with ropes and chains. His back was covered in scars and rope burns, but he ignored this. They were only scars, after all. Two armed guards came with the interrogator this time, and this slightly confused them. No other interrogators had found it even necessary to require escort, but this one did. This slightly worried Klaus, but the keyword was slightly.

"Your name is Klaus… correct?" The interrogator said, and Klaus only nodded. He did not even bother using his voice to talk.

"And according to these reports, you have been… interrogated… for six days now, correct?" The interrogator asked, Klaus only nodded.

"Miss Proudmoore is… confident in your abilities. In your satchel we found a small journal…" The interrogator said, taking out his journal. Klaus furrowed his eyebrows. They had the audacity to go through his private satchel?

"And in this journal, it appears that you have faced horrible horrible things…" The interrogator continued, before looking at Klaus, coming close to him. The interrogator looked him straight in the eye, and Klaus looked back. Icy blues looked into faded browns. Suddenly, the interrogator grasped him by the shoulders.

"Allow me in your mind…" The interrogator said. Klaus realized too late that he had let his guard down. He had no chance to respond, as he felt the xenos touch his mind, sifting through him like a filing cabinet. He thrashed and squirmed, the two guards trying to hold him down. Klaus screamed on the inside and outside, with one word. NO.

/

Naria Forestwood saw a place of ruin and turmoil. A planet, with the surface so heavily irradiated that not even life could live there, was a place called home. Underneath the surface, were massive cities, where people lived and worked. Then she saw strange tubes, and in each one, she could see a small human baby, being nurtured not by a loving mother, but by tubes and cold machines. These little boys and girls were forced to join the military, or they were shot. They then had their minds shattered, driven insane, turning into cold, methodical, killing machines. By the time they were seven, they knew how to fire and operate weapons, along with artillery batteries and other things. They trained on the radioactive surface, fighting one another in the ruined buildings and fields. Trenches and barbed wire became bushes and flowers, ruined buildings became trees. Most of these soldiers did not survive to turn fifteen, and most that did were placed on more and more dangerous missions, becoming grenadiers. Grenadiers painted skulls on their masks, for they knew that they were dead men walking. In battle they marched ever forward, with no fear of dying, Comrades fell before Klaus, grabbing stumps, or clutching holes in their chests, while others lied completely still, but Klaus did not give them any attention, no thoughts of grief, but only one thought was on his mind. To die in glory. Naria was horrified. What kind of world did this poor child live in? She realized why six days of interrogation were fruitless. For it was child's play compared to what this poor human felt, and been through. She snapped back into reality, falling back onto the ground, looking at Klaus in horror. Klaus was practically foaming from the mouth, struggling against his bonds, his face a look of pure fury. The guards dragged her away from the cell, as the bonds were undone. The gate had to be closed with such speed that it was almost inhuman. Like a feral animal, Klaus smashed onto the bars of his cell, furious. She had never seen such rage in humans, and she quickly regretted looking back at him, he stared at noone else, but her, with a gaze of such fury and hatred, it made her shiver. Such a poor innocent boy, who lived in a world where peace was a dark joke, only told by naive fools, when in Azeroth, it was every races goal to do so. She started weeping. Weeping in pure fear, and sadness.

"THAT'S RIGHT YOU FILTHY XENO WHORE! CRY! CRY! BEG TO YOUR GODS THAT I NEVER FIND YOU AGAIN, OR DEATH WILL BE A MERCY COMPARED TO WHAT I'LL DO TO YOU!" Klaus roared like an animal, shaking on the bars of his cell. The inmates nearby, captured spies and warriors of the horde, only whistled.

/

Jaina was shocked. No, shocked was not the proper way to say it. Disturbed, was a more appropriate answer. Klaus, had been sitting in the dungeon for six days. Six. Not once he talked, even while he was beaten (which she really didn't want to do, but the prison warden insisted, and with a little bit of blackmail thrown in there too), and his face remained, impassive. Blank. The same. Nearly every race in the alliance had interrogated him, even a Gnome tried, but all failed. But the second the night elf druid used magic on him, Klaus lost his shit, to say it nicely. The calm soldier she had seen for the last six days had turned into a feral beast in less than a minute. Saliva was dripping freely from his mouth, as he stalked around his cell. She wasn't even sure if he was mentally sound. Worse was the poor night elf, which was now a crying wreck, as she slowly made her way back to the fort for the answers she had uncovered. But so far, she knew she wasn't going to like it. Suddenly, Klaus came to the bars, staring at Jaina.

"Miss Proudmoore. Please. If you are truly merciful, kill me, or allow me to kill myself. Please. I beg of you." He begged like a child, and Jaina gasped.

"Why?" She demanded, only for Klaus to wipe his mouth and sigh, pulling up his chair close to the bars.

"For I am a Krieg. I have served the emperor since I was born, but now I am no longer in his light. I consort with these foul Xenos daily, along with heretics and mutants. I have no desire to live with them. I have failed my only goal. To serve humanity." Klaus explained, pleading with his cold blue eyes, and for a moment, Jaina seriously considered granting him his request, before she shook her head.

"No. I'm not killing you. You may not be in "the emperor's" light, but you still wish to serve mankind, no?" She said, hoping to a response out of him. To her surprise, he nodded.

"And you wish to see the best of intentions for mankind?" She continued, and yet again, he nodded.

"I will not kill you, but perhaps you could die a glorious death, serving the alliance, and mankind?" She said, but Klaus did not answer. He only looked down upon himself.

"I… I am a heretic…" He said to himself, and Jaina wasn't sure if he said this on purpose, or by accident.

"I… I… I... will think... about your offer." Klaus said simply, and Jaina nodded, leaving Klaus in his cell.

/

Klaus sat on the floor, idly drawing at the sand of his cell. Unlike the rest of the cells, which had their floor made of stone, his cell was partially broken and destroyed, so he only had sand as a floor. He didn't mind though, in fact, he enjoyed it. Many Kriegers drew in their spare time, which was very rare, as the Death Korps were always needed. It had been nearly an hour since Jaina left, and Klaus had started to get tired of the dungeon, especially filled with xenos, and heretics. The xeno to his side, what they called a tauren, looked from the bars at the drawing Klaus had made.

"You draw with finesse, pale one." It said, but Klaus did not even give it the satisfaction of a glance. He merely looked at his drawing. He had drawn a beautiful countryside, of large rolling hills and beautiful trees. Flower beds were scattered across the grass, and on the largest hill, underneath the shade of a tree, two people sat next to each other.

"You are a xenophobe… aren't you?" The tauren asked. Klaus looked at the tauren, sizing it up. It was large, nearly as tall as an adeptus astartes, with muscles like it too. Red and blue face paint was all along his face, elegant designs carved into his tusks. Feathers and furs were his clothes, and Klaus nearly scoffed of how primitive the tauren was.

"You are correct. All xenos are treacherous scum, and they deserve to be crushed, by the boot that is the Imperium." Klaus said, throwing in the insult to see its reaction. While others would merely rage, the tauren merely shrugged.

"Do not hold grudges against the species, but the individual. It is like hating a father, so you pick on the son. It is a cowardly thing to do." The tauren merely replied. Klaus wanted to laugh. He so dearly wanted to press his face against the Tauren's cell bars, and tell him that his word meant nothing, that he was a xeno but, he was partially correct. Although Klaus universally disliked xenos, he hated some more then others. So, then should he treat some xenos lightly? He pondered about this, knowing this was heresy. Then, the door to the dungeon opened, light flooding in from the door, filling up the dark dungeons, a few prisoners groaning. Footsteps came closer and closer, until they reached his cell.

"Have you thought about the offer?" Jaina asked him. He was relieved that instead of the slutty shirt, she was now wearing a normal gown, that actually covered her up decently. Klaus stood up, careful not to destroy his drawing, and came close to the cell door, Jaina backing up a little. Good. That meant that even though Jaina had more authority than Klaus, she still partially feared her.

"I will accept your offer. On one condition." Klaus said. Jaina looked up. She partially expected him to say yes, but she never thought about any conditions.

"And that would be?" Jaina asked him. Klaus chuckled, before leaning in.

"I want to see my last interrogator." Klaus whispered.

/

Jaina didn't know how to respond, although she was relieved that Klaus was no longer considering suicide. She wasn't sure if she could allow Klaus anywhere NEAR Naria. But that was his condition, and she would not go against it.

"Then it is a deal." Jaina said, as the prison warden fumbled with his keys, sticking it in the lock, turning. The ancient gears in the gate squelched as the gate popped open, Klaus taking a step out. But the ceremony was not yet done. She did not dare to show Klaus in public, so she decided to do it here.

"Klaus. Kneel." Jaina ordered, Klaus looked at her, with that blank face, as always.

"Is this an order, or a request?" Klaus asked her. Jaina sighed. From reports from Naria, these Krieg's as he often called himself, were mentally shattered, and then put back together again, so that they would follow orders blindly and with zeal.

"It is an order." She said. Klaus did not say a word, as he kneeled on the ground before him. The prison warden handed her a short sword, and she lightly tapped the sword on Klaus's shoulder. Then his other shoulder. Then his head. She gave the sword back to the prison warden, who merely grunted, watching as Klaus looked at the stone floor with great interest.

"Rise, Servant Klaus." Jaina said. Klaus slowly arose, and saluted, clicking his heels together, slamming his fist into his chest. If he showed humiliation, or pain, he didn't show it. Instead, he showed honor, and pride.

"Do you feel any better?" She asked, hopeful for an answer, but all Klaus did was nod. A man of short words, this one.

"Now come. I will give you your gear back, although some modifications have been made." She said. Klaus gave her an icy look, and she decided to elaborate.

"Nothing much. We merely painted the symbol of the alliance on your chest piece." Jaina added. It did not comfort Klaus, and she sighed.

"Let's go." She said, leading Klaus out of the prison dungeon.

/

Klaus felt relieved to feel the metallic taste of the air, as he slipped his gas mask back on. It was very pleasing, and gave him the good feels. The feels of when he was on the battlefield, whistling artillery bombarding the enemy position, manning his position on the machine gun nest. Jaina looked puzzled as he sighed, not trying to hide the fact that he looked pleased.

"You… you realize that you have no need to wear this… 'gas mask' in the fort, with clean air, right?" Jaina asked him. Klaus nodded. Jaina merely shrugged, looking over Klaus, as he entered the familiar grenadier armor.

"It is a refreshing to be back in old decals." He simply replied, as he put his trench coat back on, tapping at the integrated carapace armor. The symbol of the alliance was thankfully, painted in black and gold, not the normal blue and gold he had seen before, although he did not approve of the desecration of his armor. It fit with his clothing, at least. Finally, he put on his helmet, covering his hair. Without the helmet, he felt rather bald. He didn't dare say this to Jaina, however.

"Now, Ma'am. What is my first duty?" Klaus said finally, as he examined his lasgun, satisfied that no mutants had done too much damage. It was only dusty, which was an offense to the machine spirit.

"Well, you must be tired after all of that… interrogation. I have a room for you, that you can use." Jaina said, leading him to a guest bedroom. As Jaina opened the door, Klaus suddenly felt how tired he was. He hadn't slept in the prison a lot. Mostly, because he did not want to fall asleep under the constant surveillance of xenos.

"Thank you, Ma'am." Klaus said simply, as he laid on the wooden floor, putting his lasgun aside.

"Klaus… there's a bed… for you…" Jaina mumbled, pointing to the massive bed. Klaus merely shook his head.

"I am more comfortable sleeping on the floor, if you don't mind." Klaus said. Jaina sighed. She didn't want to force him into bed, but this was getting ridiculous.

"Klaus, sleep in your bed. That is an order." She said, frustrated. She was surprised when Klaus shot up like a rocket, sitting on the bed. _Dirty woman_ he thought to himself. She had exploited his only weakness. His unfaltering loyalty to his superiors.

"Yes, Ma'am." Klaus replied, before he covered himself with the blanket, idly staring up at the ceiling of the room. Jaina couldn't tell if he was sleeping, for he was deathly quiet. She simply stared at him for twenty minutes. She had a feeling that he might go back onto the floor. She didn't really like when people refused such honors. But to her surprise, Klaus did not even move a _muscle_.

"I could use more people like you..." She chuckled, slowly closing the door behind her.

/

Review Time!

AncientRaig: Yes, he may bit emotional, but when you dont enforce something, you slowly lose control.

Reichtangle: Yes. All of the heresy is filthy.


	3. Chapter 3: Errand Krieg

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

Anyways, im pleasantly surprised of how well this is going.

Anyways, their may be a pause in chapters, as I have to go digging through wikis to find out how to progress the story forward.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Klaus awoke. The bed was comfortable, of that their was no doubt, but the floor… How badly he wanted to sleep on that floor, he could not describe. He was up in an instant, still dressed in full combat gear. His lasgun was strapped on his shoulder, his power packs were charged, and his boots had been shined. He was ready for the first day of duty. Until he realized that he still had to do morning prayer. Klaus looked around. No one was in the room, and no one was watching. He knelt down before the mirror in front of the bed. He lit several candles around the room, even though it was futile, as light poured into the room.

" _Thou, have saved me. Thou presence is a torch. Grant me your salvation, Beloved father. The universe is dark and my soul is weak. Be my shield, be my torch. Hail him on Terra. Thou are my beloved father, I, your servant. One word and I would die for Thou."_ ***(AUTHOR'S NOTE: I could not get my hands on the copy of the Imperial Infantry Uplifting Prayer, because they are expensive as hell, so I had to just Google some prayers. I apologize)*** Klaus said slowly and deliberately, nuzzling the mirror with his gasmask, before he rose. He noticed that Jaina was in the doorway, smirking.

"So this is how you pray to the emperor?" She asked. Klaus stared hard, trying to find something in their. Menace. Cruelty. Torment. Instead, he merely found curiosity. She was not teasing him, as he expected. Instead, she was asking a question. A legitimate question.

"Yes. However, since their is no ecclesiarchy to fully bless my soul from all of the heresy I have committed in the past week, then I must use the prayers available in the Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer." He stated. Jaina chuckled, smiling.

"The what?" She giggled. Klaus opened his satchel, taking out the Uplifting Primer. It was a small book, small but thick.

"It is required that all Guardsmen carry the Uplifting Primer with them at all times, lest they risk being executed for incompetence." Klaus stated, handing Jaina the book, although rather cautiously. Although she was his superior, he had not forgotten that she was a psyker, and that she consorted with xenos. He could partially forgive her for consorting with xenos, although he didn't trust her for that. He didn't trust her for being a psyker. He never would, and as so, he didn't feel comfortable in such close proximity. She flipped through the pages, before giving it back to Klaus, who carefully put the Primer back in the satchel.

"You would get killed… for losing that book?" Jaina said. Klaus nodded.

"In addition, destruction, or damaging the primer may result in execution, or flogging, normally a hundred lashes, per say of Kriegen justice." He replied calmly, saluting, clicking his heels. Jaina sighed. Perhaps he would never get out of habit.

"Now, what is our mission objective?" Klaus calmly asked, standing like a statue. Jaina looked at him rather uncomfortably, before she sighed.

"Well I mean… Would you like to have breakfast?" She asked. Klaus did not say anything. Jaina sighed. She didn't know that Klaus was THIS loyal to her superiors, to the point where he could barely think for himself. This was going to get tedious VERY quickly.

"You're having breakfast. That is an order grenadier. After that, you will come to me to meet the ambassadors, that are rather… interested in your abilities. Understood!" She yelled. Klaus saluted clicking his heels, slamming his chest.

"SIR YES SIR!" Klaus yelled, before he stood there idly.

"Well? Go!" Jaina said, waving him onward.

"Sir, permission to speak, sir." Klaus asked her. She sighed.

"Granted." Jaina chuckled. Klaus got back into a more formal position. As formal as Klaus could get, at least.

"I do not know where the mess room is located." Klaus reported. Jaina let out a smile. She had been so caught up trying to get Klaus do something naturally, that she had neglected to tell him WHERE to go.

"Follow me." She said, leading him onward, as Klaus marched behind her, holding the stock of the lasgun in one hand, the lasgun against his shoulder, the other balled into a fist.

/

Klaus examined the market, marching out. Jaina had sent him to do a few errands, and although he did not disobey her orders, he still felt useless. How he longed to go to battle, to fight for mankind! Oh well. Perhaps when the ambassadors show up, then maybe then, he could be sent out on a mission. He did not care what he fought. Daemons, Beasts, Xenos. He would gladly fight them. He would fight anyone honestly. But right now, he had a mission to fulfill, although it baffled him why she could not have lesser servants to do the work for her. He didn't mind though. It had been awhile since he had been able to fulfill orders, and it was a relieving experience. He was also lucky, that almost all of the civilians here spoke low gothic. He looked at the checklist that she had given him.

 _Weapon (Melee)_

 _Healing Elixir_

 _Clothes_

 _Food_

Klaus looked over the list again, wondering what a Healing Elixir was. No doubt some magical concoction. Jaina had also gave him a medium sized sack of gold, for no reason really. None that he could interpret, that is. When he asked her about this, and her seemingly endless generosity, she said that she wasn't paying him. Klaus wasn't payed in the guard either, so he didn't mind. He began to look around for a weapon's stand. He kept his lasgun especially close. It was standard Lucius pattern, a common style of lasgun for krieg infantry. It felt comfortable in his hands, but for now, he kept it on his shoulder, however. He didn't really trust any of these merchants, as many of them were xenos.

Finally, he found what he was looking for, a weapons shop. He came up to the stand, tapping lightly on the table. The shopkeeper, a gnome, as he learned, was busy making some strange contraption. Klaus, slightly annoyed, coughed. The gnome looked up to him, and instead of looking frightened, it merely smiled.

"Nice mask." It said, sticking out its small hand. Klaus stared at its hand, looking up and down the gnome, before back at the hand.

"What am I supposed to do?" Klaus asked him, the gnome looked confused.

"Ya shake it." The gnome smiled, still waiting patiently. Klaus looked at his hand, and then at his own, slowly shaking the hand. The gnome smiled.

"I can see you're not really the social person, are ya?" The gnome chuckled, before its eyes came to the lasgun.

"Woah… wha… what beauty is that?" The gnome said, whispering. Klaus sighed. It wouldn't kill him to show his superiority over the mutant.

"Lasgun, Lucius Style Pattern. Fires high powered lasers. Deadly." Klaus smiled, showing off his rifle. The gnome went to touch it, and Klaus lightly slapped it away.

"No touching." Klaus said, slipping it back on his shoulder. The gnome sighed.

"Just… Jus-"

"No."

"Ehh alright alright. What can I do fer ya? The name is Lolewack Geargrinder." He said, tipping his small hat. Klaus nodded his head once, before taking the list out of his greatcoat.

"My mistress required me to do some errands, as I recently have been conscripted into her service." Klaus responded. Lolewack looked up at him, and smirked.

"And who may this be, a lover?" He teased. Klaus shook his head.

"She goes by the name of Jaina Proudmoore. Strange name." He said, mostly to himself. Lolewack gaped, like a fish out of water.

" _The_ Jaina Proudmoore?" He said, gaping.

"I am aware that their is only one?" Klaus replied. The gnome bowed, which was quite comical.

"What could I do for ya?" Lolewack said, eager to please.

"As I said before, I am looking to fulfill my errands. My master has told me to buy a weapon, preferably melee." Klaus stated. Lolewack smiled, pulling out weapon after weapon. Each and everyone was dismissed, and the gnome started to become more and more frustrated, until the gnome pulled out the last weapon. This caught Klaus's attention. The gnome saw Klaus twitch, and smiled. He finally got his attention.

"Do you know what this is?" Klaus said, looking over the weapon. He knew the design. It was a Hell's Teeth Chainsword. He looked over the chainsword, trying to find any patterns that gave away its original owner, although with its dark colors, it limited its choices. He could not find any.

"I assume that you did not make this, squat." Klaus murmured, glancing over the chainsword, poking at the adamantium teeth.

"No. Some guy found it in a tomb." The gnome admitted.

"How much?" Klaus asked, and the gnome chuckled.

"It would have cost 100 gold coins, but I'll make it forty, one one condition." The gnome said. Klaus was surprised. He only had eighty gold coins with him, so he was losing half of his money and still had three more things to get.

"And what your condition be, gnome?" Klaus said, continuing. The gnome smiled.

"I get to look at that Lasgun, since I know that you're going to do something nasty if I take it." The gnome smiled.

"Thirty seconds. Any longer and the chainsword will be bloodied." Klaus threatened. The gnome shrugged.

"It's a deal. Now lemme see that beauty." He grinned. Klaus sighed, rolling the lasgun off of his shoulder. The gnome greedily took it, looking it over. He played around with the lasgun, before he accidentally pulled the trigger. He yelped, as the lasgun fired, flinging itself from his hands. Klaus reached over and grabbed it, as the gnome looked at the searing hole in his shack.

"I warned you." Klaus said simply, pulling out the required money, putting it on the shack, before he left, the gnome still trying to extinguish the slowly growing fire. Klaus smiled, before he sheathed the chainsword, tying it to his belt. His shovel would have to wait his turn.

/

Jaina was reading the journal that Klaus had left behind. She knew that he wouldn't be back for an hour or so while she sent him to run on her errands. In reality, not only were the things that he bought would be for himself, Jaina was just happy to get him off of his hand. The druid had told Jaina all about poor Klaus. About how their parents are metal vats and tubing, feeding them. Of how they were driven insane, and then formed back into emotionless killing machines, only made to serve, of how their once beautiful home world had been destroyed beyond belief, and now was only a ruined husk, a former shadow of its former glory. She in all honesty felt bad, really bad, for sending him away. She flipped through his journal, and had to admit, he was a damn good drawer. He often drew scenes of lush tranquility, drawn in with pencil, soot, and sometimes, blood. In addition, he often wrote about things on the field. Often, he fought against things called orks, and she wondered if it was similar to orcs. A simple letter change could change everything really. She read about they were savage beasts. Hulking monsters, often taller than a man, wielding crude weapons and pistols. They came in the thousands, a combination of machines that belched smoke, and massive hordes of infantry. It seemed he had a burning hatred of them. Jaina thought what would happen if Klaus knew that she was friends with the LEADER of the orcs. Then, she heard footsteps outside. She closed the journal, sliding it away, before taking out a random book, as the door to her personal library opened.

"Mistress Jaina, I have returned." Klaus said, coming in. Jaina was about to say something, when she saw the monstrous sword that Klaus had purchased. It was a strange boxy sword, with small spikes serving as the blade. Klaus caught her eye, and under his mask, she could tell he was grinning.

"This, Mistress Jaina, is a chainsword. A sword with powered razor sharp teeth. They are no mere swords. They do not grant quick death. Instead, they grant pain. They tear, eviscerate, and maim, instead of slice and cut. Such is the fate of the enemies of man." He cackled, as the chainsword was powered up, a screaming whine coming from the sword, as he swung it in the air, mocking killing a foe. Jaina looked in horror, as the sword powered down.

"Such a fine weapon, only for you, my mistress." Klaus stated, bowing down, holding the chainsword up to her like she was a god.

"Klaus… I um…" Jaina mumbled, as Klaus looked up to her.

"Yes, my mistress?" Klaus asked her. Jaina sighed.

"Alright, I'll be honest with you. I sent you on the shopping trip for a few reasons." Jaina admitted. Klaus rose up from his knees, placing the chainsword on the desk, before he stood at attention.

"I am ready to hear your directive, Mistress." Klaus said, clicking his heels. Jaina was getting really tired of the damn clicking heels.

"Well, I'll admit why I sent you. I was… curious… about your journal…" She mumbled, pointing at Klaus's journal. Klaus gave it a quick glance, before looking back at Jaina.

"And I wasn't sure how to ask you If I could learn more about you… so I sent you on some errands, so I could take a quick look." She mumbled, waiting for the backlash, but she was shocked. He did not get mad at her, did not curse, instead he… blamed himself?

"I am sorry, Mistress. I was not aware that you were curious about my whereabouts, however, I do not blame you. I had come from a realm that was not my own, and you simply wanted to know more. I blame myself, for being too private about my information. I am ready to receive disciplinary on your word. A hundred lashes and several months in the dungeon, is my personal recommendation, mistress." Klaus said. Jaina shook her head fiercely.

"No! No disciplinary action. You are to keep your belongings, and you are dismissed." Jaina ordered. Klaus nodded, before he left.

"Wait. Before you go…" Jaina said. Klaus paused, spinning around.

"Yes Mistress?" He asked her. Jaina sighed.

"Do you think… you could do something for me?" Jaina asked. Klaus nodded.

"Anything."

/

Klaus had expected something more. He expected to be sent on a crusade, purging filth from the street. He had expected to be the personal executioner for the filth in the dungeons. He had expected to dig trenches and fortifications around the fort, securing it from any enemies.

Instead, he had been ordered to paint.

To paint.

He didn't mind, actually, he rather liked it, but he had expected something far far worse for his insolence. On Krieg, he would have been shot, on the spot. No questions asked. Another body into the mass grave. Instead, Jaina had asked him to paint. When he asked her what, she smiled, and said anything, before she left, to do some errands. Krieg had been given a variety of brushes, and some paint, and a rather large canvas, before she left. When he asked her why she had asked him to paint, out of all things, she simply smiled and said.

"Thats for you to find out." Cryptic, that psyker. He still realised he hadn't seen that psyker who entered his mind yet. He had strong words to say to her. Strong, strong words. But when he met her personally, he would do it. For now, he focused his attention on the painting. He thought of Krieg. Krieg before the civil war. Before the filthy traitors rebelled against the Imperium. Before Colonel Jurten made the brave sacrifice, that destroyed not only the rebels in the end, but the lush lands that was Krieg itself. He wanted to cry, but Regentropfen was not playing, so no tears could be shed. He began painting, drawing the large green fields. He washed the thick brush, using the small one to draw the shadows of the gleaming golden sun. He lost track of time, as he was painting, completely mesmerized in his work, almost like he had been hypnotized. Suddenly, seemingly a few moments later, the door opened.

"Klaus. The ambassadors are here ar-" She said, before she stopped, looking at the painting. It was beautiful. Lush green hills were spotted with beds of red and yellow flowers, eagerly reaching to the sun. A small grove of trees provided shade for a lone man who sat down, a lasgun in one hand. The gleaming shine of the sun cascaded amongst the shadow of the man, providing shade for a small critter that ate a nut behind him. A small stream flowed freely around the hill, water parting against the rocks, the golden light of the sun shimmering against the stream, reflecting it like it was molten gold. Small boulders were placed in seemingly random places, one housing a small nest of baby birds, as their mother snuggled along with them.

"What… what is this place?" She asked in wonder, and Klaus only snorted.

"It was Krieg. My homeworld. Before the rebellion. Now nothing is left, only a charred black husk." Klaus said, before he put the painting tools aside, walking out the door. Jaina, still mesmerized by the painting, and his words, snapped out of her trance, and followed him, even though shortly after, it was he who was following her.

REVIEW TIME

Tenash: I plan their to be more Warhammer 40K characters to show up, but they will come later.

Anon: Thanks for the facts, I guess?

Guest: Thanks for this piece of information! I needed it :)


	4. Chapter 4: The Roaring Blade

Hey, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

Anyways, here is another chapter.

Dont have much to say here, but anyways, enjoy!

Jaina was rather worried about what would happen. The factions were slightly xenophobic, but they were still friendly with one another. However, Klaus was the definition of not only extreme xenophobia, but extreme aggression. He really was a wildcard. A calm soldier, who follows orders to the letter, but the second something unfamiliar happens, something that he cannot control, and he snaps, like a twig. He also hates "xenos" which she found to be anyone who isn't human, and dislikes "mutants" which meant people who looked like humans, but were slightly different, so gnomes and dwarves, but her biggest concern is what would happen when he met the human diplomat. He did not like "heretics" who were people who went against his rather strict beliefs, that should a human consort with a xeno, or a fellow heretic, then in return, he is a heretic. She wasn't sure how this would go, but she would be damned if she wasn't prepared. If anything happened for the worse, she would freeze him on the spot, and then later punish him, although the punishments he had in mind were always far worse than she could give out. As Klaus marched behind her, perfectly disciplined, not missing a single step, always in a straight line, she often forgot that he was YOUNGER then her. He was only eighteen, but he acted like a war veteran, and in all cases, he was. Then, they reached the diplomacy room. The four diplomats waited patiently, eager to see this stranger that Jaina spoke so proud of.

"Greetings, Lady Proudmoore." The Human diplomat said, greeting her. However, they weren't here to see Jaina. They were here to see Klaus. And Klaus came shortly after. He marched into the room and paused, clicking his heels together, still holding the stock of the lasgun, the gun on his shoulder.

"Greetings, I am Grenadier 652733-172948 'Klaus' of the 5th Death Korps of Krieg Siege Regiment, however, my peers, and therefore you, know me by Klaus." He said, stating in such a monotone matter that Jaina almost laughed. Here he was, being viewed by the alliance himself, and he didn't even show emotion. The gnome ambassador whistled, looking at his gear.

"Klaus, sit." Jaina said, pulling a chair for him. He marched forward, sitting down on the chair, strapping his lasgun over his back. He sat down, at the rather comically large table. Jaina took the seat next to him. There was an awkward silence, as the ambassadors tried to figure out what to say.

"What… What are ye laddie?" The dwarf ambassador said, finally breaking the silence. Klaus smacked his fist into his armor, before responding.

"I am a Grenadier of the Death Korps of Krieg. I live to serve mankind, and to crush its enemies underneath my boot. I am ready to sacrifice my life for any cause deemed necessary, ready to die at a single word." Klaus replied defiantly. Again, silence.

"I meant… what race are ya…" The dwarf said again.

"I am human, squat." Klaus replied. The dwarf chuckled. Never had he been called a squat before.

"Manners, Klaus." Jaina said sternly, before standing up.

"Klaus here, is a soldier of war. He currently awaits deployment in any military cause that he deems worthy of his presence." Jaina said, filling herself with bravado, while Klaus did not show anything.

"How can we be so sure of his combat abilities?" The night elf ambassador said, frowning. The rest of the diplomats muttered agreements.

"I am prepared to show my combat skills. Perhaps, you have a foe that I can slay?" Klaus asked, and his voice showed a hint of something that made Jaina shiver. He was excited.

"Maybe…" The human ambassador thought. They had never seen him in combat, though his combat gear showed that he knew at least something.

"Murlocs maybe?" The dwarf ambassador proposed.

"I am not familiar with the term, murlocs." Klaus replied calmly. The dwarf sighed, facepalming himself.

"Ach laddie… how long have ye been in Azeroth if ya don't know what Murlocs are?" The dwarf sighed.

"Approximately 184 hours since I first arrived in this strange land." Klaus replied, followed by several chuckles. A smart one he was.

"They are amphibious creatures that are highly aggressive, but weak." Jaina explained.

"This sounds excellent. When shall we go?" Klaus asked eagerly. The ambassadors let out some smirks. An eager soldier this one was.

"We will leave in the morning. Perhaps, we should send a few soldiers with you?" The human ambassador declared.

"If you deem it worthy, sir, then I am not one to complain." Klaus replied simply. The ambassador smirked. He could learn a thing or two from Klaus.

"Are all of you coming?" Jaina asked, a bit surprised. She hadn't planned for visitors. They looked amongst each other, and they nodded.

"We came from across Azeroth to see a special individual. We wouldn't want our reports to be… unsatisfying." The night elf smiled. Klaus did not show any emotion, but Jaina felt something in him. It was anger.

"Then we are done here? We leave tomorrow, head to the nearest murloc village, and slay them all?" Klaus asked. The dwarf nodded.

"Ya may even get something out of it." The dwarf smiled, but Klaus merely shook his head.

"No. I do not receive payment from my superiors, and looting xeno corpses is heresy. Anything that you find is yours to keep. I am but a humble servant." Klaus replied calmly. He then stood up.

"Mistress Proudmoore. I await your orders." He declared. Jaina smirked. Although it was kind of annoying, she could get used to this.

"Go get some shuteye." She smiled. Klaus did not move.

"Permission to speak, Mistress." He asked politely. She rubbed her forehead.

"Proceed." She mumbled.

"I am not familiar with the term 'shuteye.' Would you care to elaborate, mistress?" Klaus asked. Jaina audibly groaned.

"Sleep! That's what it means!" She snapped. Klaus did not even move a muscle from her sudden outbreak, but he merely nodded, giving a quick salute, before he marched down the hall. Jaina sighed, looking at the smiling ambassadors.

"Oh shut up." She mumbled, blushing slightly.

/

Klaus slowly slipped off his gasmask, the familiar and comfortable metallic taste of the air disappearing. He took off his grenadier greatcoat, revealing his undergarments. He took a quick sniff of himself, before he winced. He had not washed himself since he had arrived. If he were in the barracks, he would have been executed for incompetence by the local commissar. He opened up his Uplifting Primer. He started to mumble the prayer of forgiveness, for he committed far too many heresy. He dearly hoped the emperor could forgive him, for not only did he consort with xenos without killing them, but also with mutants and heretics. He had only been able to barely hold in his anger. It was his duty as a grenadier to die for humanity. Not to consort with xenos and mutants. He could not afford to lose his trust though. Jaina was his only tie to this world, and the only one who was capable to send him back to Krieg. If he lost it, he may not ever find a way back. He sighed, starting to read the prayer from his primer, as he slowly read himself to sleep on the bed.

Little did he know, that a particular individual was watching from the windows. The blood elf smiled, idly playing with her knife. She had gone through hell to get in Theramore, having to sneak through patrol after patrol, but now, at long last, she had found her target. She was sent to investigate this individual. It was not often when ambassadors from nearly all alliance factions came to the same city, for one person. It… peaked her employer's interest, and she was sent to investigate. So far, she was not disappointed. This… boy... dripped with innocence, something she dearly hoped to break in the far future, but something else came out of this boy, that she simply craved. Loyalty. And with loyalty, came power. She knew that this boy was not of this world, and he certainly held a lot of power, to sway one of the most powerful alliances members to become a willing servant… within a week. She would eventually be forced to kill this boy, but for now, she spared her hand. She would watch, and observe. Until she saw him in combat, and to see him test his mettle, who knew how valuable her target was? Perhaps she wouldn't kill him. Maybe… he could become a servant…

Now this thought surprised her, and she was about to dismiss it, when she began to think it over again. He was unnervingly loyal, she had seen that much. How much power could she gain from this innocent boy? She chuckled. Only time would tell.

/

Klaus opened his eyes, rubbing them. He arose, the sun starting to rise, forgetting about the fact he was still in his undergarments. But how could he forget? Today was the day he proved that he was a worthy combatant, and that his promises to crush the enemy of mankind underneath his boot were not for show. For nearly an hour he prepared, starting with daily exercises. Fifty push ups, a hundred sit ups, and then some more push ups. Child's play of what he would do in the barracks, but at the same time, he was pressed for time. He shined his boots with grease and a rag, until even a commissar would whistle.. He put on his Grenadier Greatcoat, fitted his gasmask, and then his helmet. He checked his powerpacks, forgetting that he hadn't used them yet, except for the instance with the pesky gnome. He checked his chainsword, the roaring sword yelling for blood to be spilt. He silenced the weapon, putting it in the sheathe on his waist. Soon. Soon. He kneeled down to the mirror, and began to pray to the emperor. In an hour and a half, he had been fully prepared. He strapped the lasgun onto his back, before he barged out of his room. He turned back, looking it over, before he thought he saw something out the window. He dismissed this, as he looked over the room, shaking his head. The bedroom was impressive, but it didn't suit Klaus. It needed more trenches. Barbed wire. Machine gun nests. Maybe some gothic music playing. Yeah. That would work. But then again, he wasn't too sure if he could find said barbed wire, machine guns for his nests, and something that could play gothic music, and he was pretty sure Jaina would not allow him to dig trenches in the middle of the fort, so his dreams had to be halted, currently. He didn't let this get to him though. He would find a way. Eventually. He closed the door behind him, as he marched out of the fort. It had taken him awhile to memorize where everything was, but at last, he had it nailed down. Somewhat. The ambassadors were already outside, several bodyguards with them.

"We were wondering what took you so long." The dwarf chuckled, however, Klaus ignored them. For some reason, he couldn't shake that something was watching him. The Death Korps were not known for their sense of awareness, but he felt that something was watching him. Klaus glanced over his shoulder, to his disappointment, he saw nothing.

"Everything alright, Klaus?" Jaina asked him, and underneath his gasmask, he let out a small grin. In this strange realm, Jaina was the only one who seemed to care about him. Sure, she authorized his torture, but he would have done the same, although not so late. He would have done it the second she was in the dungeon. But she had a different motive driving her. He couldn't find it yet, but one day he would.

"So how do we get to the designated coordinates, mistress?" He asked her. She smiled.

"Horses." She said, as several horses came out of the stables, being led by several trainers. Klaus frowned underneath his helmet. He was no Death Rider, but he had rode horses on krieg, but these horses were no Krieg Steeds either. They lacked the genetic enhancements of the Krieg Steeds, which allowed them to survive on the radiated wasteland that was Krieg. He looked at the last horse, a grey horse with black spots on its fur, which looked uncomfortably at him. Klaus came close to it, whispering in its flickering ear.

"You are a good horse. I shall call you Ketzer, for what I am." Klaus smiled, patting it on the head, before he leaped upon it effortlessly. It whinnied underneath him, but he affirmed his power over it with a quick prod of his steel toed boots.

"Shush Ketzer. We will redeem ourselves in the emperor's name." Klaus said, grasping his chainsword.

"Where to?" Klaus asked, as they began riding.

"Follow me, Klaus. Don't dissapoint." Jaina teased, as the horses began to ride down the road. Klaus chuckled lightly. He wouldnt.

/

The murlocs on the beach of Dustwallow Marsh were ill suited, and ill prepared for the humans to come in. The murlocs number was around sixty, and seeing the eight humans was a great pleasure. They would feast well tonight. That was until one of them started shooting. Strange beams of light came from the gun, and the murlocs squealed, as the beams incinerated their thin skin, their bodies catching on fire internally, small explosions happening at the point of contact. The human didn't miss his shots either, as the rest of the guards pulled back to the ranged human. The murlocs let out a furious warcry as they charged.

"MRGLLGLRLRL!" They cried as they charged forward, but murlocs were not the best land walkers, so their advance was slow, but they were losing their numbers fast. Then, the ranged human put away its rifle, and a roaring blade came out instead.

"FOR THE EMPEROR MEN!" The human cried, as murlocs and humans clashed.

/

Klaus did not say anything as he swung his chainsword, digging the roaring blade into the foul beasts. It squealed as its body juddered and kicked, the chainsword cutting through its frail skin and muscles, digging deep into its spinal cord. Watery blood poured out, staining his uniform, as he ducked underneath a clumsy swing of its blade. He turned to the offending murloc, who raised a small wooden shield in defense. Klaus swung the chainsword, the blade cutting through the wood with sickening ease, severing the arm in return. While the other guards were dueling with the murlocs, merely trying to show off to one another, Klaus went for the kill. Another murloc came forward, a strange sword in one hand. He kicked with his prosthetic leg, the metal alloy punching through its ribs. He stomped on its head, crushing its frail skull, greymatter and bone fragments launching into the air. He swung his chainsword, cleaving a murloc in half, its intestines spilling out of the gaping hole where its waist once was. Had he have a laspistol, this would have made things a whole lot easier. He parried a clumsy blow, cleaving a murlocs head off, blood spurting out of the gaping hole. The murlocs, mindless as they may be, bled very nicely. They started to target Klaus, but Klaus only smiled on the inside. Good. More enemies slain by his hand. He shoved his chainsword inside a murloc, the body shivering as blood spurted out, the chainsword eviscerating its muscles and turning it into gristle. A blade clinked against his carapace armor, and he turned, giving the murloc an uppercut. It merely stunned the murloc, as it fell down, he gave it a good kick. The murlocs head caved in with the force of his kick, the steel toed boots doing excellent work. He fought with cold fury, as he swiped his chainsword, cutting a Murlocs leg off, before stomping on its ribs, crushing it. He tried to pull it out, but to his anger, it was stuck inside its body. More murlocs charged at him, each meeting a cruel fate, as the chainsword cut through them. This was pathetically easy. It was like fighting Termagants in melee. Klaus took out his combat knife and threw it, the blade getting stuck in a murlocs jugular. Blood frothed out as it collapsed, the blade digging itself deeper into its throat. The murlocs started to retreat, heading to the water. He unpowered his chainsword, taking out his rifle, taking potshots at the retreating murlocs. They squealed as the las bolts punched through their frail skin and armor, searing their body from the inside out. Klaus pulled his leg, finally getting it unstuck in the murlocs abdomen.

"Excellent work men. The emperor smiles on us." Klaus said out loud, to no one in particular, as he dug out his combat knife, wiping the blood off with a rag. The ambassadors came out of the woods, and surveyed the carnage.

/

Jaina had never seen such a battlefield. Viewing the small raid, their were two sides of the battlefield, after Klaus got separated with the rest of the guards, Jaina got worried. One murloc may not be a problem, but being surrounded by them was a completely different story. The bodyguards were surrounded by bodies, but Klaus was surrounded by gore. Everywhere. The chainsword, as he called it was brutal. It lived up to its name, as she flipped a murloc body with her staff. Its organs spilled out, where she could see a distinct footprint on the inside of its chest cavity. Other bodies were more mangled, simply pieces of flesh with blood leaking out instead of corpses. She shuddered, imagining the absolute DESTRUCTION that could happen, if someone was to engineer more of these chainswords…

"Mistress Jaina. I hope that you are pleased with our results." Klaus said calmly, even though his uniform was splattered with blood.

"I… I um…" Jaina mumbled, lost for words.

"Ach ladie! When I told ya to fight them, I didn't mean eviscerate em!" The dwarf chuckled, going on his tiptoes to pat Klaus on the back, who flinched at the contact.

"I merely serve the emperor, squat." Klaus said calmly, as he shook his chainsword, blood dripping from the teeth, and this time, it was the dwarf who flinched.

"Relax, squat. You would know when it is on." Klaus replied, soothing the dwarf. The guards started sacking the murlocs, and Klaus glanced at them.

"Mistress Jaina, why are they looting their corpses?" Klaus asked, and Jaina sighed.

"Murlocs are important for food purposes, and also carry other valuable items." Jaina explained, Klaus shaking his head.

"Unacceptable. If a commissar was here, they would be charged of heresy, and maybe techno heresy, and executed." Klaus mumbled, to himself more than to anyone else. Jaina sighed. Klaus and Jaina were polar opposites. Jaina valued life of all kind, while Klaus valued human lives above all else. That was the only thing they had in common. They valued others over themselves, but even then, that was to different degrees. While Jaina would retreat given the chance, and that she did all that she could, Klaus would charge full in, for he didn't care if he died or not. The rest of the ambassadors, after looking at the carnage Klaus had wrecked came around.

"Exceptional combat skill."

"I really need me one of those…"

"Simply amazing."

Klaus showed no emotion after being complimented, not even a twitch.

"Are we to depart now, Mistress Jaina?" Klaus asked her. Jaina smiled.

"Yeah. I guess so."

/

The frozen lands of Northrend. Once known as the roof of the world, or the crown of Azeroth. It was always a frozen wasteland, massive spirals of ice racing to reach the skies. However, deep in the glaciers, an ancient and evil force was stirring. It had been a long time since it awoken from its slumber. It felt no pain, no tiredness, no weariness, however, the Lich King felt something, that greatly displeased him. The corruption in Azeroth was waning. His own sweat and blood, disappearing. He would not have this. He sent a message to the legions of undead that laid beneath them. They howled, as they marched once more, years of waiting and idleness was no more. The Lich King felt the tip of his icy blade, Frostmourne, and let out an unholy noise. It was a chuckle. The kingdoms of man and orc were to be destroyed once more. Then there would be corruption everywhere, and then all would serve him.

REVIEW TIME

Guest: Anything for you :)

Zazi the Beast: You have a point, but realize that guardsmen find that killing themselves is a very cowardly thing to do, instead of dying in the field of battle. And because that Kriegans are extremely zealous in their service to emperor, they wouldn't dare kill themselves. This is why in impossible odds, they would still keep fighting to the end, instead of giving themselves the mercy of death. The emperor values those who are brave, not cowards.

deed: Maybe, but this is not likely. Yet again, another thing for me to know, and for you to find out.

Tenash: For me to know, you to find out.


	5. Chapter 5: A Quest

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

So here is the fifth chapter. A bit long, but its not too bad.

Anyways, I appreciate all of the support. Tells me I'm doing something right.

Anyways, I may not upload a new chapter tomorrow, but I hope you can forgive me for this.

Anyways, Enjoy!

/

Klaus worked the oiled rag into and between of the chainsword, washing away the dried blood of the chainsword. Although the murlocs were barely worthy opponents, their blood clotted the chainsword to no end, which in turn, angered him to no end. He was happy, however to find that this model of the chainsword used self sustaining power cells. Otherwise, he wasn't sure if he could find any worthy substitutes to fuel the chainsword, rather than volatile promethium. He dipped the rag back into the oil, before cleaning the teeth yet again. It was nearly midnight, yet he could not sleep. He didn't know why, but It didn't come easy to him now a days. Before, he could sleep soundly, knowing that he wasn't surrounded with xenos, mutants, and xeno lovers. But now, it wasn't easy. If his peers thought of sleeping with and around said things, they would have gone on a personal crusade, for they had suffered the worse amount of heresy. Klaus paused, glancing at his combat knife, which lied on the table next to his bed. It would have been so simple. Just take the knife, and slice your throat. It was the easy way out. However, Klaus shook his head clear of that. No matter the hero, suicide was the coward's way out. Anyone who committed such an atrocious crime was a coward in his eyes, and the emperors. No cowards would stand by the emperor's side. He reminded himself, although he was in the service of xeno lovers, he was doing it for the betterment of mankind. At least he thought. Klaus snapped back into reality, as he felt something lightly touch the floor, silently. The vibrations shot up his remaining human leg, and Klaus whipped around, lasgun in hand. The creature froze, slowly raising her hands.

"Ah. An elf. If you wanted to come in, you could have just knocked." Klaus said coldly, his eyes gazing up and down the xenos body. It did not look like a purple elf, or normal elves. Strange tattoos were placed all along its arms and legs. It had a lithe and muscular body, green eyes peering into him. Blonde hair flowed like a waterfall all along her shoulders. She wore shorts that went up to her knees, and a shirt that went up to her bellybutton, her clothes blood red and jet black. Klaus sighed on the inside. Why did girls around dress like prostitutes? She was the textbook definition of beauty. But she was a xeno, so he wanted to retch.

"I'm afraid my kind isn't that welcome around here." She said softly, slowly coming forward into the candlelight. Klaus kept his lasgun raised.

"And if you are not welcome in this place, then why do you think I would allow you in my private quarters?" Klaus growled, hostility in his voice.

"I am Shalen Dayspear, and I'll admit. I have been watching you for awhile." She purred seductively. Klaus was worried. Why was she trying to get his attention?

"I did not ask for your name, xeno. I asked why you are here." Klaus growled.

"I was sent by an employer to get information on you, and then possibly, kill you. After all, creatures from different realms are not very welcome around here." She said simply. Klaus scoffed. She had told him her purpose. She was supposed to kill him. Why would she tell him this?

"And why did you tell me this? If you're an assassin, you aren't doing the best job." Klaus scoffed, before at an instant, he felt a knife at his throat.

"Care to explain to me why?" She chuckled lightly, retracting the blade from his throat,only slightly. There was no way that Klaus could move to fire without having a slit throat. Klaus growled, lowering his Lasgun. Why was she toying with him? The Officio Assassinorum would not even let Klaus have a chance to move before they killed him, especially an Eversor assassin. He remembered the story of the scream of WRRRRRYYYY! before an Eversor ran into a ork stronghold, breaking through the walls, killing every single ork in the facility in the hour.

"If you want to kill me, then do it. I do not fear death. I fear nothing." He growled, she smiled, flipping the knife expertly in her hand.

"Everyone fears something. I fear death, especially what's going on around in northrend… What do you fear?" She smiled.

"I fear not dying a glorious death. I fear running from a fight, like a coward. But I know that this will never happen. For I am from the Death Korps of Krieg." Klaus said proudly, standing up, filling his chest with pride.

"We know no fear, we know no remorse, no emotion. We will drown the enemy in our blood and corpses if we gain our victory, and we will die with smiles on our lips, all for one thing. Victory for mankind, and Victory for the emperor. For in the end, you are wrong. Mere men and xenos may fear something, but I am not a mere man. I am Krieg. I fear nothing." Klaus growled. Klaus then punched the xeno, her attention being torn away from his speech. She growled, before she realized that Klaus had raised his lasgun in one hand.

"Now Xenos, because I am tired, and haven't slept yet, I will give you five seconds to leave, and go back to whatever hell hole you spawned from, before your masters find you a steaming corpse." Klaus said, his hands unsheathing his chainsword, finger softly touching the ignition switch. The elf smiled, slowly walking out of the room, climbing out of the window.

"Don't worry, Klaus. I'll be back, soon enough. And next time, you don't get off so easy." She giggled, giving a quick wink, before she disappeared. Klaus carefully looked out and around the window, and found nothing. Sleep did not come easy to Klaus, much to Shalen's amusement.

/

Jaina was watching the seaside coast, as ships floated and left the harbor, bearing treasures and goods, along with other things, when she heard a knock outside her personal chambers.

"You may enter." Jaina said instantly, still watching the shore. From the sound of marching, and the heavy breathing, she expected it to be Klaus.

"Mistress Jaina." Klaus said, still standing in the doorway, as she turned to face him.

"Yes, Klaus?" She asked, patiently.

"How did I come to this realm?" Klaus asked calmly, and for once, Jaina wasn't sure how to answer him.

"Well the merchants that brought you here said that they found a spellbook from some tomb, and that upon finding an unusual pair of symbols, they summoned you." She said. Klaus's stance softened, his harsh glare becoming weaker, but only by a bit.

"What were these symbols?" He asked. Jaina tried to remember what they looked like.

"Well one was a double headed eagle… and the other one was an eight pointed star? That was all I could remember." Jaina said, and Klaus twitched.

"Chaos…" He spat, his hand going for his chainsword. Jaina let out a slight eep, and decided to assert her dominance.

"Klaus, chainsword down, now." She commanded. Klaus did just that, slowly lowering the chainsword.

"Mistress Jaina. It is imperative I find this spellbook, and destroy it. I can not allow the ruinous powers to gain a foothold on this realm." Klaus declared. Jaina's mind went a million places at once, all converging on the same place.

"What are the ruinous powers?" She said. Klaus twitched again, almost like it was anathema to him.

"The ruinous powers are foul heretics. You may be a heretic for consorting with xenos, but they are by far, the worst type of heretic, for they have turned away from the emperors light, and resided with foul daemons. I must find this spellbook, and destroy it. Where is it?" He demanded.

"Klaus, You did not answer my question." She snapped at him, anger starting to gain control.

"I apologies, mistress. The ruinous powers are the forces of the four dark gods. With them they bring pain, agony, and suffering beyond compare. If they managed to get a foothold in this realm, there is no saving it. Your realm will know an eternity of pain, death, and suffering." Klaus explained, before grabbing his chainsword from the floor, sheathing it.

"Now, where can I find this spellbook?" Klaus demanded. Jaina thought about this.

"I'm not too sure. You can find the merchants who were selling it though, they might tell you." Jaina replied. Klaus leaned in, real close. She could hear his heavy breathing, his two gold tinted lenses peering at her soul.

"Where. Are. They." Klaus growled, each word more menacing than the next.

/

Haylee left the tavern, feeling refreshed. She had made good money from the recent excavation. She walked out onto the street, feeling the sun beating down on her skin, and she sighed. It was a wonderful today. She thought about all of the things she could do today. She could go on a personal vacation with all of the money she and the rest of the merchants had owned. That was, until she was suddenly grabbed, dragged into a dark alley. She struggled, but her kidnappers strength overpowered her. She tried to scream, but a thick black glove covered her mouth. Then she heard a whisper, followed by heavy breathing, from her assumed to be rapist or killer.

"Do not scream. Remember me?" A familiar voice said, and Haylee realized with escalating horror who it was. It was, without a doubt, that weirdo they had accidentally summoned, Klaus.

"I will let you go. On one condition. You remember that warp tainted spellbook you found, which dragged me into your pitiful realm? You will tell me where it is, and who bought it, before you will not be fearing death, but begging for it, after What I do to you." Klaus whispered, Haylee feeling cold metal kissing her neck, enough pressure for blood to start seeping. She started crying, as the glove softened, enough to keep her quiet, and enough to hear words from her.

"Some Night Elf bought it! Sh- Sh- She's heading to Darnassus! I swear!" She sobbed, her confession interrupted with sniffles, as she was in pure terror.

"Your cooperation is appreciated." Klaus whispered, as she was let go. She sank to the ground, weeping, turning as Klaus was walking away.

"Wait! Why do you need to know?" She cried, the tears still coming down. Klaus turned to her menacingly, his gold tinted lenses peering into her, shrinking away in terror.

"To save your realm." He replied, before he disappeared into the crowd.

/

Several hours later, Klaus had fully prepared. In his satchel were his powerpacks, now fully charged, after throwing them into a campfire for a few minutes. His shovel, a sack of gold coins, given graciously by Jaina. Some food items, a map, and his canteen. After cleaning his uniform, and saying the proper incantations to please the machine spirits of both his lasgun, and his chainsword, he was ready to leave.

"Klaus. Be careful. The horde is not the only thing you have to worry about these days." Jaina said, giving him a scroll. Klaus looked at it, finding the wording simply strange scrawls.

"What is this?" Klaus asked, flipping the scroll around.

"It's a scroll of teleportation. If you ever get in trouble, just read it, and you'll be back here." Jaina explained.

"Thank you. Although I highly doubt I will need psychic powers, or 'magic' as you like to call it." Klaus said, stuffing the scroll into his satchel.

"I make my leave." Klaus said, before he started to walk away from the fort.

"Wait, Klaus! I have one more thing for you." Jaina yelled. Klaus turned, coming back.

"And this would be?" He said, before he heard a horse whinny, as it was brought to him.

"Ah! Ketzer! My faithful companion!" Klaus smiled, holding the horse's head in embrace. He lifted himself onto the horse, fitting comfortably on its saddle.

"Farewell, Mistress Jaina. Perhaps our paths will converge once again." He said, as he began riding again, leaving the gates of Theramore.

"Although I hope it doesn't, you frakking psyker…" Klaus said to himself, chuckling, as he and Ketzer trotted down the road. He decided to follow the road for now, and he calmly went forward, Ketzer happy to move at a rather slow pace, even though they were still going ten miles an hour. For several hours, he did not look anywhere else but the road, until he eventually glanced at his map. He figured he was at the bridge, that linked theramore to the rest of Kalimdor. He checked the sun's location. It was slowly setting, and he decided it was time to camp, and rest up. Although he didn't need the rest, Ketzer sure did.

"This way Ketzer." He said simply, as he branched off of the main paved road, following a sign that led to a tavern. The horse led him on, clearly tired. He peered at the sign, activating the flashlight attachment on his lasgun. He pointed the lasgun on the sign. The tavern was called the sword and club. Interesting name. He rode his horse to the tavern, tying the horse firmly to the many designated fences outside the tavern. Inside, he could hear the hooting and hollering of the patrons. He would sleep outside in the woods, there was no doubt, but he decided to rest up. He opened the door, and walked in. The patron stopped their activities, dozens of eyes staring at him. Klaus didn't even flinch, as he walked up to a stool at the bar, sitting down. The bartender, a dwarf, glanced at him, a hearty look in his eyes. He growled, looking at the rest of the patrons.

"Alright! If ya are going to keep starein at every person that walks in, I'll kick yer arse all the way to northrend, you runts!" the dwarf snarled, the patrons continuing their activities, although a still gave a few interesting stares at him. The dwarf chuckled, looking back at Klaus.

"What would it be, laddie?" He asked politely, slightly chuckling. Klaus sighed. He hated being in this warp damned place.

"Give me your strongest drink." Klaus said simply, and the dwarf smiled, a little evil grin creeping up his face.

"Are ye sure? They don't call it the liver killer for a reason…" The dwarf smiled. Klaus recognised a challenge when he saw one.

"Bring it." He said simply, a small crowd gathering around him.

"I'll bet ten gold that he's not even STANDING after drinking that…" A voice challenged.

"Oh yeah? I'll bet twenty…" another voice said. Soon, there was a small pile of gold coins next to Klaus, as the dwarf returned, a glass of black liquid with him. Klaus was wondering idly why they were betting if he could stand after drinking this beverage. Who would win if he was knocked out? He decided that these patrons were drunk beyond having simple normal thoughts.

"Here ya go. Dont say I didn't warn ya." The dwarf said, sliding the glass to him. Klaus caught it, stopping its slide. He slowly took off his gasmask, as it hung idly in front of his chest. Klaus took the liquid, giving it a quick sniff, before he downed it. It was powerful, yes, but it was not even close to what the Space Wolves had to offer. He had only served a campaign with them once, after combined forces of Chaos and Orks had attacked a sector together. They had the strongest alcohol, possibly in the Imperium themselves, once that would knock a Carnifex on its ass, and they happily shared it with the Kriegans, jolly as ever. He took a few of the gold coins from the pile, sliding it to the dwarf, before he stood up, starting to put the coins in his satchel. The bar attendants stared at him in awe, as he stretched his back, before he finished his task of shoving the coins into the sack given to him, before stuffing it back in his satchel.

"What?" He asked, as he slipped the comfortable gas mask back on, tasting the metallic tinge of recycled air once more. They were in shock, to say the least. The bartender shook himself out of shock.

"H- H- How are you even standing?" The dwarf said in complete surprise. Klaus shrugged.

"From where I come from, that's average." Klaus admitted idly, as he sat down in his stool once more. The crowd hadn't even moved a muscle. Klaus began to get frustrated.

"What? Go on! Do your activities! I merely asked for a strong drink!" Klaus snarled. Slowly, the crowd dissipated.

"From yer attire, I assume you're not from here." The dwarf pointed out. Klaus sighed. Were all abhumans this mentally retarded?

"No dwarf. I am not from here. I am from Krieg." Klaus replied simply.

"Krieg?" The dwarf asked curiously. Klaus caught himself from sighing. He was not from this realm, apparently.

"Krieg was my homeworld. It was once a beautiful land, filled to the sea with green grass, trees, and flowers. It was simply beautiful. Then the planetary governor rebelled. The loyalists fought long and hard, but they were soon to be defeated. Colonel Jurten, realising that their was no point saving Krieg, released nuclear warheads, that obliterated it. With this, we won, but at a price. Now it is a charred, black husk, a shell of its former glory." Klaus explained diligently, his patience being tried. He would not dare risk a fight, especially since he was no longer in Theramore, so he had to keep his anger in check.

"Oh.. I'm… I'm sorry." The bartender mumbled, leaving, as a new customer came in. Klaus realized that he had to fill up his canteen, as he had drank it dry.

"Excuse me, bartender, do you have any water?" Klaus asked, as the bartender returned.

"Sure." The bartender said, Klaus reluctantly handing him the canteen. He reminded he would cleanse it later, and that he wouldn't have an opportunity to fill it up later. Outside, he heard Ketzer making noise. Klaus gripped his lasgun tightly, as he went outside to investigate.

"This is a nice horse you have." A familiar voice said. Klaus growled, whipping his lasgun like a club at the source of noise. He hit air. Klaus growled, fixing his combat knife onto his rifle.

"No need for such… violence." The elf said again, seemingly from behind him. Klaus fired the rifle, the laser beam scorching the earth.

"Show yourself, you coward…" Klaus growled.

"I don't think I should, Klaus. You have a purpose, and It's my goal to guide you to it." She stated.

"Now go get your canteen, before they try to steal it." she chuckled. Klaus snarled, content of whether to kill the xeno, or retrieve his equipment. He decided he would do one after the other. Get his canteen, and kill the xeno later.

/

Shalen let out a light chuckle, as Klaus came out of the tavern, canteen in hand, rifle in the other. It was a strange weapon, but yet again, Klaus was the strangest being she had ever seen.

"Alright you xeno wench, show yourself, so your death can be swift…" Klaus growled, grabbing the rope that was around his horse's muzzle, starting to walk away from the tavern.

"I don't think I should…" Shalen smiled, carefully creeping through the bushes, coming behind him. Klaus turned around, pointing the rifle at her. She smiled on the inside, raising her hands up. Klaus came swiftly toward her, butting her in the stomach hard with the stock of his rifle. She grunted, falling to her knees.

"Alright xeno. Try to convince me why I shouldn't kill you now…" Klaus said, the rifle powering up.

"Well there are many reasons. For one, you don't know the lay of the land, and the hostile towns around here. If you were to show up to the wrong town, then you would certainly be captured." She smiled. Klaus growled.

"In addition, one more pair of eyes, and one more brain to aid you in your cause." She smiled.

"If you have any…" Klaus whispered to himself.

"Hey! I heard that!" Shalen snapped at him, and he chuckled.

"I was aware… any other reasons?" Klaus asked her, and Shalen struggled to think of any other reason that could achieve her goals. Klaus helped speed that up, by cranking his rifle to maximum power.

"I can get you into Darnassus!" She blurted out, hoping that Klaus was stupid enough to believe her. Klaus slowly lowered his rifle.

"Very well. As I do not know the lay of the land, or how to get into this place you call Darnassus, I will tolerate your presence in our travels. Note this, Shalen. If you even look at me wrong, I will not hesitate to kill you. You are a liability, nothing more, nothing less. Be thankful that I even spared you." Klaus growled, leaving her, as she struggled to get up. She quickly went back into the brush to get her bag, but on the inside she smiled. She was getting closer and closer to her goal. She returned, as Klaus tied the rope around a branch, leaving enough for the horse to lie down comfortably and to stand comfortably. It nibbled at the small pasture of grass surrounding the tree, the rest simply being dirt and dried leaves. He had already began to set up a campfire, taking small sticks and dead leaves and putting them together.

"There you were. I was hoping you ran off." Klaus grumbled, as he took out the rifle and fired at the small pile of sticks. She watched as for a mere nanosecond, the laser came out of the gun, igniting the pile. He then stowed it away, waiting for the fire to grow, before adding more and more sticks. In a few minutes, the large fire was burning with incense. He then put rocks around it to prevent the fire from spreading, before he sat down on a boulder.

"Xeno, speak. I know that their is a greater reason you decided to come along." Klaus said suddenly after nearly five minutes of silence. Shalen was surprised. She thought that he would simply try to ignore her.

"Yet again, my purpose is to get information, but stalking you isn't that… fun anymore." She said cryptically, hoping that Klaus wouldn't push it forward, and he did not. He took out a small book, and began to say something. She tried to listen in, but he wasn't speaking any language she knew. She sighed, looking into the fire once more, before she dozed off.

/

Klaus watched the xeno woman fall asleep, and he started to question what was happening to him. A few weeks ago, he would have not hesitated to kill EVERYONE in this foul place. He would have led a personal crusade against these xenos and their lovers, and he didn't care if he died, so long as he took one with him. But now, he didn't think like that. The years of training and war that dictated his every movement, every thought, every action, was slowly fading. He realized with horror what was happening. He was thinking for himself, and not others. Not only was it DAILY now that he was consorting with xenos and mutants, but now he in addition, is traveling with one. This was a very alien thought, that disgusted him to no end. He looked back at the elf, his fingers clutching his lasgun so hard that he almost felt like he would break it. It would be so easy! Walk forward, and plunge the bayonet in her throat! Shoot her, and get a clean headshot! Throw her in the fire and laugh at her! Take the chainsword, and eviscerate her so badly that even a Night Lord would be worried! Strangle her with your two good hands! Drown her in a river! Let Ketzer kick her in the head enough times! The possibilities of killing the elf were endless, and all were doable! But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He bit his lip bloody, a moral battlefield taking place in his mind. Should he kill her, or should he spare her? He finally came up with an idea. He would spare her, for now. When she was no longer useful, he would kill her himself. Yes. That would be his plan. He was aware that she knew she was a liability, but yet again, she seemed well trained in combat. He was starting to wonder if he was sparing her, or if she was sparing him. He growled at the thought, before he slowly closed his eyes, and let out a little yawn, before descended into slumber.

Review Time

Guest: Yes, I agree.

Tenash: Well you will see when you read it :)

deed: Dont worry, the orcs will show up in a chapter or two.


	6. Chapter 6: Traveling Banter

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

Now i wont be able to upload for several days, as I am going camping.

I will return on the fifth of July, so expect a chapter shortly after that.

Anyways, Enjoy!

Klaus awoke, not to the dying campfire and in the forest, but on a mysterious white plain. It was like a desert, but with no sand, the light nearly blinding him. He looked down at himself, and he was in his undergarments. His hand went for his gas mask, but it was not there. Klaus looked around, trying to determine if it was a dream or not.

"This is no dream, rather a vision, Mon-keigh." A voice said cockily, and Klaus without a doubt knew what it was. The strange, songlike voice, and that arrogance in its voice. There was only one option. He turned instantly, charging at the eldar warlock. It merely stepped to the side, dodging his punch. He let out a kick, but the warlock yet again, seemingly melted out of the way. He let out punch after punch, haymakers, uppercuts, roundhouse kicks, but none seemed to even hit the eldar, as it sidestepped each and every blow clumsily.

"Enough." The warlock said, knocking him back with psychic power. Klaus pulled himself up, but he felt like he was trapped. He could not move, could not even move his eyes, glued to the warlock.

"Mon-keigh, you were sent here for a reason. You would have died in the warp, but we intervened." The warlock explained, but Klaus wasn't having it.

"Filthy xeno. Release me from these shackles, so I can burn your foul corpse." Klaus spat out, before he was strangled by the psychic powers.

"I think not. Ever so faithful in the emperor, now listen, and take heed. We sent you here for an important reason. You see, this place is where the chaos gods came from and formed, made manifest. We have been trying to find a way in. For centuries, we have tried again and again, but our efforts have been fruitless. Until now." The warlock said, Klaus sucking up the statement eagerly.

"You are the only one capable of destroying the foul taint of chaos, for in the prophecies, it talks about the man who is known by numbers, and breathes through a mask of steel. Should you succeed, your emperor would have never been entombed on that throne. The civil war you called the Horus Heresy, would never happen. Your emperor, would still be alive and well." The warlock told him. Klaus gasped. A way to prevent the horus heresy? A way to prevent the eternal war? A way to prevent the emperor from being mortally wounded? And it was up to him? But then he shook his head. He couldn't trust this eldar.

"And how do I know you're lying, foul eldar?" Klaus growled. The warlock sighed, putting its hand on his face. He struggled, but he lost the psychic war, as images flooded into his mind. The chaos fleets taking Cadia, Blackstone fortresses destroying planet after planet. Then Armageddon. Then Terra. The four chaos gods become manifested into realspace, and the galaxy he knew being destroyed, turning into a massive warp rift. Klaus stuttered, trying to think of an answer. But he could not. It all seemed so real…

"Ho… How…How do I stop this?" He begged, the warlock sighed, looking at him once more.

"You must destroy the Lich King. The Lich King was once a prince, corrupted by his blade, Frostmourne. What he doesn't know is that Frostmourne is slowly turning him into a daemon. The first daemon. He is now waging war against the kingdoms of the mortals, and he will succeed. Unless you intervene. If he succeeds in defeating the kingdoms of Azeroth, he will uncover the transform into a daemon, corrupting the other gods of this realm, transforming them into the four gods of chaos. A foul relic of chaos itself, the armor of the Lich King. It holds its thrall against the prince, and you must kill him, at all costs. But before you do this, you must destroy the foul tome that brought you into this realm, the Sepulchrum Quattuor. It is another artifact of chaos, and will limit our abilities to support you." The warlock explained.

"Wait, support?" Klaus asked, confused and eager.

"Yes. If you destroy the tome, we can send fellow Imperial Troops and armor to aid you. You see, mon-keigh? We have set the road for you, it is you, and you alone who can walk it. You have two choices. Either suck it up, go against what makes you a Kriegan, and help destroy the Lich King, or lead all sentient life to damnation and death." The warlock replied

"Should you destroy the Lich King, then you will save not only your people lives, but everyone's. The chaos gods will wither and die, as their past selves will be utterly destroyed. You, Klaus, are the only hope of not only the Imperium, but the Eldar, Tau, Necrons, Orks, and all sentient life." The warlock ordered him.

"However, the dark gods have realized that you have traveled into their most sacred realm, which they have kept a secret for an untold millennia. However, they and their greater daemons cannot enter this realm, due to many wards placed by fallen gods. They can, however get through by sending smaller troops. They will be sending their finest champions after you, chaos lords, sorcerer lords, plague champions, champions of she who thirsts... but do not fear. It will take considerable time for them to find a way into this realm, but when they do, they will hunt you, nonstop. As so, given time, we will send the Imperium's finest and other allies to help you in your cause. You have three months. Three, before they enter this realm, and hunt you. But time is fleeting!" The warlock yelled, before he started to make strange movements. The white plains disappeared, and he saw himself still sleeping on the boulder, the elf sleeping as well. The fire had died, and the sun had began to crawl up.

"Now, return back to the mortal realm! Get to Darnassus as fast as possible! We are counting on you!" The warlock roared, before he flung Klaus back into his body.

/

Klaus woke up, nearly falling off of his boulder. He was wondering if it was a dream, when he heard the warlocks voice in him again.

 _It is not a dream, but a vision. Go, now!_

"Alright alright…" Klaus grumbled, getting up. He heard his stomach roar, and his hand went for the sandwich in his bag. He took off his gasmask, eating it hastily. Three months. Three months until the ruinous powers find their way into this realm. Three months until they come for him. Three months to destroy that damn spellbook.

"Elf! Awake! We do not have time!" klaus yelled, but the elf was still asleep. He sighed, taking out his chainsword, activating it. The screaming blade awoke the elf, who in return screamed as loudly.

"What the hell! Don't do that!" Shalen screamed, trying to get back her composure, as she gracefully jumped over the stump, doing a quick flip. Showoff.

"Shalen, we do not have time. We must get to Darnassus as quickly as possible, or we shall all perish in the coming invasion!" Klaus argued, practically throwing a sandwich at her face. She nimbly caught it, starting to take nibbles out of it. It wasn't exactly fresh, but it wasn't rotten either. Klaus wasn't that great of a cook, followed by the look of slight disgust on her face.

"What do you mean coming invasion?" She snapped, eating it slowly. Klaus growled at her, telling her to eat faster. She stuck out her tongue, and Klaus snapped.

"FOUL XENO! MUST I TELL YOU EVERYTHING! THE RUINOUS POWERS ARE COMING! THEY WILL KILL EVERYONE, OR BEND THEM TO SERVE THEIR FOUL WILL! YOUR REALM WILL BE NO MORE, AND NEITHER WILL MINE! NOW EAT YOUR FUCKING SANDWICH!" Klaus roared at her, scaring both Ketzer and several birds.

"Jeez… could have asked nicely…" She mumbled, eating it quickly. Klaus's throat hurt. In the Korps, he never had to yell. As a matter of fact, he didn't really have to talk in the Korps. Klaus took a sip from his canteen, before stashing it back in his satchel.

"Now xeno, are you a fast runner?" Klaus asked, more calmly this time, more to soothe his throat then to be polite. She shook her head.

"No, so you may have to share that horse of yours." She said, struggling to finish the sandwich, gagging slightly.

"He has a name. It is Ketzer." Klaus growled, untying Ketzer, leading him to the nearby stream. Ketzer eagerly took long drinks of the water, as Shalen came back, washing her face in the stream.

"Now, Shalen. You said that you knew the lay of the land. What is the quickest way to Darnassus?" Klaus demanded, turning to face her. She sighed, rubbing her head.

"Well, there are a few ways. We could head to the nearest settlement that has flying travels. Although it won't take us directly there, it would shorten the trip, seeing how to get to Darnassus from here on horse alone would take far longer than three months…" She started, but then Klaus grabbed her by the shoulders, and shook her so violently her teeth chattered.

"WHAT IS THE QUICKEST WAY?!" Klaus screamed at her.

"Um… well we could head to Ratchet. Its neutral to both Alliance and Horde, and has some flight paths to get us close to Darnassus. It will take a few weeks to ride there, but it will shorten our voyage…" She mumbled.

"Excellent. Perhaps you are useful after all…" Klaus chuckled, leading Ketzer to the road.

"You know, you should really not insult me. I'M the one who's leading you to Darnassus…" Shalen snapped at him.

"Yes, and I was the one who spared you. I'M the one who didn't kill you, and I'M the one who did not report your presence in theramore, even though you are a spy, who tried to kill me." Klaus retorted, Shalen did not respond. Got em.

/

Shalen was starting to think about her life decisions. Not only was she travelling with a stranger, from apparently a different realm. She was also riding a horse with him, and, she wasn't sure who was at the mercy of whom. She decided to get her goal. Information.

"So Klaus… where are you from?" Shalen decided to ask, breaking the near half an hour silence.

"Krieg. Segmentum Tempestus. Imperium of Man." Klaus said monotonously, urging Ketzer forward.

"I mean what does it look like? Is it a desert, or a jungle? Or a-"

"Nuclear wasteland?"

"Um… I don't know what that means."

"Uninhabitable. Forced to live underground."

"Oh…"

Silence reigned again, and while Shalen was looking for more questions to ask, Klaus was praying to the emperor that he could get to Darnassus in time, and that the elf would shut the hell up.

"So who is this emperor you keep talking about?" Shalen asked him. She was relieved that he had an actual responsible.

"The emperor is the most powerful, strong, intelligent, and charismatic, human of all time. He is the master of our destiny, and was the one who lead us from the horrible times of the age of strife. He made the legendary, godlike, Adeptus Astartes, and the Primarchs, his own 'sons'. Even now on the golden throne, he has survived for ten thousand years and over, and led humanity to greatness, even in its darkest times." Klaus said, glorifying this so called emperor, but she was surprised when he said that the emperor was over ten thousand years old. She thought that most humans didn't live past one hundred!

"How is he still alive, if he is ten thousand years old?"

"The golden throne has kept him alive, even though he was mortally wounded."

"By whom?"

"His most favorite son, who not only turned against the emperor, but also led half of the space marine legions against him. Horus." Klaus said, practically spitting out that name, making a strange sign over his chest before he continued.

"The heretic forces attacked terra, and in an act of arrogance, Horus lowered his shields on his mighty cruiser. The emperor and his remaining primarchs teleported on the ship, but due to sorcery, they were separated. The emperor confronted horus, who had slain one of his primarchs, Sanguinius. The emperor and Horus fought, but the emperor could not bring himself to kill his favorite son. But as Horus beat down on the emperor, he realised that Horus was no longer his son, but a monster. The emperor slayed Horus, but his wounds were too mighty. He now sits upon the golden throne, and for ten thousand years, he has led the Imperium to glory. But even then, it is only barely enough…" Klaus muttered, taking a deep breath.

"So how does he lead your nation if he is barely alive?" Shalen asked him, now actually curious.

"He does not do it physically, but psychically. He powers an ancient device known as the astronomicon, a tool used to traverse through the deep parts of space. Only a select few are capable of using it, however…" Klaus replied calmly.

"I see…" Shalen mumbled.

"Now xeno, it is your turn. Although consorting with xenos is heresy, by this point, I have consorted with xenos far beyond I can count." Klaus stated. Shalen sighed.

"It's a long story…"

"It's a long trip. You have a point?" Klaus retorted. Shalen had to give credit where it was due. Klaus was the most blunt, yet calm man she had ever seen. Although he did have his moments.

"Alright. I guess I owe you one." She shrugged

"No you don't. You owe me nothing. I owe you nothing. This is merely a… cultural exchange." Klaus stated, as the horse was still moving quite fast, despite it seemingly moving slow.

"Also elf. Where are we exactly? I am not so good with traveling." Klaus said, handing her the map. She glanced at it, silently fuming.

"You know I could leave at anytime, right? I could leave you right here and right now, and would Laugh, as you struggled to even go in the right direction, and end up in some horde outpost. Right?" She sneered at him, and he chuckled.

"And yet you don't. You do not leave me because you have some sick agenda to fill, and I am somehow in it."Klaus retorted, glancing over his shoulder.

"You would not dare leave, because you fear that you may not be able to track me down again." Klaus grinned,

"So tell me xeno. I know that you are not here just for information. You have something that you want from me. It may be my life, but I think it is something else." Klaus grinned, an evil look in his lenses.

"I- I… I u- I um… U…" She stuttered, trying to think of a lie suitable enough, and Klaus only chuckled.

"Alright, now say your story. We cannot spare the time for mumbling." Klaus replied.

"Yeah anyways what is our quest anyways? You never elaborated, especially after yelling at me to eat your trashy sandwich…" She mumbled.

"Well here is the thing. Some strange spellbook had summoned me here, and the idiotic merchants that had summoned me and sold it to some elf, who is heading to Darnassus, or whatever that is. However, it is tainted with chaos, and I must destroy this tome, before chaos spills out. After that, I must slay some creature known as the lich king, whi-"

"DONT SAY ITS NAME!"

"What?"

"You do not speak of his name in lands like these…" She whispered.

"I do not care for your suspicions. Do not interrupt me, lest you risk tempting my wrath. Anyways, I must destroy this Lich King, otherwise your realm and mine will be destroyed by the ruinous powers. We have three months before Chaos's finest champions come after us, especially me. When we destroy the tome, reinforcements may come, and we may lay siege to the Lich King."

"Your suicidal! The Lich King would devour your soul!"  
"Then so be it."

Shalen was shocked. The Lich King was the most foulest creature that ever lived. The Lich King was the reason that the sunwell was corrupted. The Lich King was the reason that nearly all of the high elves had been killed. All of it, was his fault. The Lich was also the reason of the scourge of lordaeron, and the slayer of Illidan Stormrage, who led the Blood Elves to greatness. And then here comes Klaus, who wants to slay the Lich King, even though he was unmatched in combat.

"Do you care at all for your life? You know that he could reanimate you into a ghoul, or a zombie, right?"

"Death is a small price to pay for victory, xeno. Maybe one day you would learn this. Now where are we?" Klaus demanded. Shalen was worried about Klaus. He seemed… troubled… to say the least.

"Well right now we're halfway there at sentry point. It's a tower that dictates travel between Theramore and the rest of Kalimdor, so we may have to sneak around it.

"Why must we sneak around it?"

"Well, as Blood Elves are members of the horde, so -"  
"Blood Elves?"

"Yes. We are called the blood elves, by our finest champion, Prince Kael'thas."

"Stupid Name."

"It is part of our heritage, and our last stan-"

"I care little. You are a member of the horde, so you will not be welcome in alliance grounds, yes?"

"Yeah…"

"And this place called Ratchet, is it alliance or horde?"  
"It is neutral."

"I see…"

"Could you not be so rude at int-"  
"What reason do you have to accuse me as rude?"

"Becaus-"

"I am waiting."

"BECAUSE YOU KEEP INTERRUPTING! NOW SHUT UP, AND LET ME TALK!"

Klaus was silent, and for once, did not interrupt her. Good.

"Ok. We are called Blood Elves. We were once high elves, but then the scourge attacked our capital of silvermoon. They corrupted the sunwell, allowing the reanimation of a powerful necromancer. The sunwell, was a source of magic, and our sustenance. Without magic, we become weak and foolish. We strive to reclaim our once destroyed empire." She said. Klaus merely snorted.

"Like the eldar. You elves have a taste for almost getting wiped out, don't you?" Klaus chuckled.

"Rude prick…"

"I heard you."

"I am fully aware."

"Xeno."

"Hm?"

"Let go of my shoulders."

"How else am I supposed to hold on?"

"Pray. Pray that you don't fall down, because I won't slow down."  
"Asshole."

"Xeno."

"Jerk."

"Xeno."

"Stop saying that!"

"But it is what you are."

"And what does that mean in your words?"

"Anything that is not human. This means that you are a xeno. A rather annoying one at that."

"Hey! I'm trust trying to be friendly here, after all, we're going to be traveling for weeks!"  
"More like I'M trying to go somewhere, and you are leeching off of me."

"You're such a rude asshole, you know that?"

"I'm aware."

"This is going to take forever."  
"I agree, now shut the frak up, before I throw you off."

Review Time

deeed22: I am actually not sure. While humans in 40K are more resilient then normal humans, espiecially Kriegans, Im not too sure whether a normal human would survive said space wolf alcohol.

Guest: Ok

Tenash: Yes, and you will soon see how he vents his anger :)


	7. Chapter 7: The Green Quarry

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

Anyways, this is gonna be a short chapter, because I dont have too much time until my next trip.

I will be going to paris, and will be leaving on the twelfth.

So anyways, I hope you enjoy.

The next few hours of riding had gone completely silent. Both Klaus and Shalen realized that talking would only provoke the other to the point of lunacy, so they spared each other, and did not talk about anything. The only noises that could be heard were the heavy breathing of Klaus's gas mask, the silent trotting of Ketzer's hooves, and the chirping of grasshoppers and birds. The sun was setting, and it was nearly night time. The events at Sentry Point had been at least… exciting. The guards stopped them, saying that they would have to surrender their weapons, and be arrested. Klaus then carved one of their shields apart with his chainsword, and said that "The xeno will die at my hand. Not yours." While this worried Shalen, Klaus reassured her, saying that "You will not die at the hands of some beast or savage warrior. Instead, I will grant you the emperor's mercy. A clean, and quick death. You're lucky. Very few earn this privilege." This slightly reassured Shalen. Slightly. They made camp in the forests once again, and Klaus went into a deep slumber. He was not particularly excited for what awaited him in his dreams, but one thought remained prevalent over all others. He wished for one thing. To return home. To return to the vast war torn fields of Krieg, the large and shady trenches, the comforting sound of whistling artillery, and the rattle of machine guns. Not this, strange and calm place. Klaus knew that he was a weapon. The hammer of the emperor. What would be his purpose without war? Klaus sighed, one last time before he closed his eyes.

/

The Farseer ducked through the bushes and underbrush, hearing the bullets whizzing past. So far, the plan was working to the letter. Geldona had to give her quarry credit where it was due. Although they were primitive and savage, they had lived up to their expectations.

"Come savages! Come chase me!" She laughed, as her quarry roared in anger, firing their guns, bullets ripping through leaves and woods. She came upon a small clearing, with the bodies of mon-keigh soldiers around her. She smiled. The Aspect Warriors had done their work.

"ALRIGHT YA TWIG! KUM OUT, SO I CAN KRUMP YA!" The ork warboss roared, cutting through the trees, its massive sword parting through leaves and wood with ease. It stumbled into the clearing, glaring at Geldona with a look of pure rage. Geldona smiled, looking at the massive warboss. One baleful red eye peered into her, the other replaced by a metal eyepatch. A massive set of junk that it called armor lied heavily on its shoulders, striped blue and white pants covering the rest of its hulking frame. It was almost comical of how small its short, stubby legs were, but it had some serious firepower. A massive rifle was carried in one hand, a rough and scrappy cutlass in the other. Then its associates ran out of the bushes. One was a lowly ork, a Mek. It carried a massive shoota in both of its hands, scrappy armor along its entire body. Part of its face was completely covered in metal, a cyborg eye glancing at her, a screw lodged firmly between its teeth. The other was a nob, the exarch equivalent of the greenskins. It had black warpaint all along its face, a small pair of goggles strapped on its head. Blue tinted shirt and the same blue and white paints were shown, lacking notable armor. A large backpack was carried, filled to the brim with mines, shells, explosives, and knives. It carried a large rifle, two barrels peering at her. None seemed to follow them. Good.

"Mista Nailbrain, Spookums. Lemme show ya how to krump an eldar reel gud." The warboss snarled. The two orks stepped back, as the warboss cackled, cracking his neck.

"I'm gunna enjoy dis un. Ya runned too far, ya pointy ear git. This will teech ya not ta mess wiff da orks." The warboss smiled, before Geldona smiled.

"OO YA SMOILIN AT, YA STOOPID GIT?" The warboss roared at her, spittle landing on her ghost helm, that she held underneath her armpit.

"Well, Kaptain Bluddflagg. It appears that you're in a trap." Geldona smiled.

"You wot? I ain't in no… oh…" Bluddflagg mumbled, as dozens of aspect warriors came out of the bushes, raising a plethora of weaponries, all trained on the gaggle of orks. Dire Avengers, Howling Banshees, Dark Reapers, Fire Dragons, Warp Spiders. All of their catapults, pistols, fusion rifles, plasma launchers, power swords, death spinners, pointed on the orks.

"Now normally, orks, we would kill you on the spot. But… we have a proposition for you. And before you blindly charge to your dooms, hear me out. And then you shall decide.' Geldona said, clicking her singing spear onto the ground. Bluddflagg growled, looking around. He wasn't a fool. He knew that no matter the outcome that came in his primitive mind, he wasn't making it out alive.

"Alright ya pansee git. I'm listenin…" Bluddflagg growled, and Geldona smiled.

"Excellent. Now, listen closely. We have found where the foul gods of the ruinous powers come from. And with your help, we can exterminate them…" She smiled. The warboss looked intrigued. Good. It was working.

"Wot ya mean… ya mean… to krump da spiky boyz? furever?" Bluddflagg asked. She nodded.

"Yes. Now, here is where you come in. In order for this… cunning plan… to work, we will need you to protect a mon-keigh. He is the key in defeating the dark gods." She said, slowly taking out a picture, handing it to the ork. It's massive fingers clamped on the picture, taking it from her hand, looking it over.

"Mista Nailbrain. Wot is dis humie?" Bluddflagg asked, handing the picture to the mek. Mista Nailbrain looked it over, and grinned, handing it back to him.

"Iz one of dose Deff Korp boyz. Dey is dead 'ard." Mista Nailbrain smiled.

"Deff Korp Boyz... huh. I thought dose Deff Korp boyz don't listen to ya pointy eared twigs!" Bluddflagg growled. She sighed, and nodded.

"It is a pressing matter. He is the one the prophecies talk off, and it was with only extreme luck that we got him into the realm. Now, here is where you come in. Soon, the finest champions of chaos will come after him, and we need to protect him, so he can do his deeds." She said, and now here came the pressing part. Whether he accepted or not.

"Wots in it fur me, and me krew?" Bluddflagg demanded, and Geldona chuckled.

"The biggest battle you could imagine. In addition, if you survive the battle, and the recall, all of the orks will flock to you, for truly, you are the ork who helped slay the dark gods." She promised. Bluddflagg looked amongst his protege, and they both nodded.

"Alright. Da boyz will guard this Deff Korp git for ya. But 'ow do we get dere?" Bluddflagg asked. Geldona smiled, as a portal opened behind her. The orks seemed hesitant, but that was helped along when Bluddflagg dropped his weapons, and threw them screaming in the portal. Bluddflagg raised his weapons and let out a mighty WAAAGH! As he charged into the gaping maw, closing behind him. The seers came out of the bushes and collapsed, exhausted. A fellow farseer came up to her, as the rest of the aspect warriors began to half carry, half drag the exhausted seers into the revealed webway gate.

"I am not so sure about your trustworthiness with the orks."  
"Far better than the Imperials, you must admit. While the mon-keigh would try to weasel out, and disobey every command, the orks are, admittedly, loyal. Give them money, and promises of a good fight, and they would attack she who thirsts themselves." Geldona replied to him, soothing him.

"Now come. The council calls us once more."

/

Klaus awoke again, on the strange white plain once again. A bench was there this time, and he sat down. He knew that the eldar were watching him, and he patiently waited. Then, the warlock appeared out of nowhere, and Klaus took a good look at it. Its body shape suggested female. The body armor was of the color of Ulthwe, he had learned from his previous discussions about xenos with an Inquisitor. Black and white wraithbone armor was decorated with waystones, a small pendulum swinging on its neck. A spiritstone, if he was correct. Red eye slits gazed at him, as it sat down next to him.

"Klaus. You have made good progress. If you keep doing this, you will see your comrades soon."  
"I take pleasure in that, eldar." Klaus sighed, clutching his face. The warlock looked at him, and sighed.

"Now listen, mon-keigh. With the assorted council of seers, we have sent allies preemptively. You are lucky they are all still alive. Unfortunately, their current location is unknown."

"And who might they be?" Klaus asked it calmly. The Warlock sighed, and if he could see under that mask, he would know that it was blushing.

"You may not like what I say…"  
"As long as it's not orks, I can handle it."

"They are orks. We… we apologise."

"YOU DARE ALIGN ME WITH THOSE FOUL GREENSKINS?" Klaus roared at the warlock, rising from the bench. The eldar growled, rising up.

"We had no choice! We could not guarantee your safety, so we had gave you some loyal bodyguards!"  
"Orks, loyal? ORKS, LOYAL?! Clearly, you are more foolish than you may ever call me!"  
"YOU MUST DISPOSE OF YOUR, XENOPHOBIC WAYS, FOR THEY WILL AID YOU NONE!" The warlock roared at him, silencing him.

"Enter my mind witch. Truly see, why I hate the greenskins with a burning passion. Look into my mind, for you will see how… ARROGANT you are." Klaus said, his rage boiling, trying to control the flow of anger.

"Very well."

/

Klaus let out a grunt of pain, as he was tied up, and dragged along the war torn streets. The several orks that dragged grinned and cackled, talking to each other in excited tones. The Warlock looked around, seeing itself as an apparition. She followed along, as Klaus tried to wriggle out of the orks grasp. But orks were far more powerful and physically stronger than any human, so his efforts were fruitless.

"Neva thought we wuld capta a Deff Korp Boy. Betta take 'i'm to da boss." One of the orks said, and the other four nodded, as they dragged the still struggling Klaus further and further away from the Imperial Lines.

"Release me foul xenos, so I can burn your corpses, for the emperor's sake!" Klaus yelled at them, but this only made the orks hoot with laughter.

"Zog off, ya Deff Korp boy. Ya got a problem, ya take it to da boss." One said, as they finally reached ork lines. The Warlock became aware of this, as WAAAGH! Totems began to appear, and looted rhinos and chimeras rolled past, filled with hooting orks. Soon, they reached the main ork encampment. Orks and Nobs turned around, looking at Klaus.

"Ey boss! We got a Deff Korp boy, for ya bosspole!" One of the orks yelled out, and the warboss came stomping through, looking at Klaus. He wasn't the largest warboss The Warlock had ever seen, but at the same time, it wasn't the smallest. It was partially covered in plated armor, revealing his massive muscles in his arms and chest. His 'bosspole' as orks liked to call it was dangling with trophies. A skull of a hive tyrant, the helmet of a chaos space marine, and the helmet of a normal space marine. The warboss grabbed Klaus by the neck, examining his prize. Klaus kicked out with his legs, but to no avail.

"I gotta admit. Dat 'elmet and mask looks dead 'ard. But weres da fun in dat? Lets make em squirm." The warboss cackled, throwing Klaus to the ground. Klaus rose up, his hands going for his combat knife.

"Oi boss! Lemme foight da oomie!" A nob roared, coming out of the mob of orks.

"Alright ya git. Dont kill da oomie doe." The warboss nodded, and the nob gleamed, throwing down his knife and pistol.

"Alright oomie. Lez 'ave a throw." The nob gleamed, making the universal challenge sign. Klaus merely stood there, and eager to get the fight going, the nob charged. The nob swung with his fists, Klaus moving out of the way, plunging his knife into its side. It roared, swinging his arm, knocking Klaus all the way to the other side of the hastily formed arena. The orks howled with laughter, pushing Klaus back into the arena with their boots. Klaus rose up, his knife still grasped in his hands. The nob put his hand to the small, nearly pathetic knife wound in his side, and growled.

"Dat hurt oomie. Youze gonna gets it now…" The nob cackled, running at him. Klaus knew that he could not hope to defeat the nob in a battle of strengths, but in a battle of wits. Klaus ducked underneath a swing, digging the knife into the armpit. It growled, swinging at Klaus, it's fist smacking into his chest. He wheezed, falling to the ground. The knife was ripped out of its armpit, followed by a howl of pain. The nob slammed the knife into Klaus's knee.

"Da boss said to not kill ya, ya oomie git. I fink ya can live from dis." The nob grinned, as he put both of its meaty paws on his leg, and yanked it. Klaus let out a cry of pain, as his left leg was ripped off from the upper part of his knee. The Warlock winced, as Klaus tried to get up, but he collapsed onto the ground, trying to stand.

"Ya not out yet? Ill fix dat." The nob smiled, as he started to beat Klaus lightly with his own leg. Klaus tried to get away, a pool of blood forming around him, as he was beaten with his own leg.

"ALRIGHT YOU COCKSUCKERS, WHO WANTS TO GET ASS FUCKED?" A voice roared, and suddenly, space marines charged, destroying a small building, as they ran through the wooden walls. They were dressed in yellow and red power armor, litany of curses written on their armor. A strange angry face was on their shoulder pauldrons, and they each seemed to have strange weapons. Chairs, Baseball Bats, and even their fists, all glowing with power fields.

"Boss! Its da Angry Mehrines!" The nob screamed, as the so called Angry Marines started to sweep through the crowd of orks, beating orks with Power Chairs and Bats, obliterating their backs, as muscles tendons and gristle popped out like confetti out of their bodies. The warboss charged, knocking one of the angry marines over, chainaxe roaring.

"TASTE MY FUCKING BOOT, FOR THE MOTHER FUCKING EMPEROR YOU SLIMY GREEN CUNT!" A marine roared, beating the warboss to death with the power chair. The remaining orks fled, their leader now beaten to death with a chair, out of all things. One of the Angry Marines helped Klaus up, as fellow Death Korp soldiers stormed through the breach in the orks defenses, setting up perimeters of heavy bolters and lasguns.

"DAMN YOU SILENT FUCKFACE THAT WAS WICKED. YOU BETTER GO GET THAT LEG FIXED, MEANWHILE, I GOT SOME GREEN LITTLE SHITS TO BEAT UP. FOR DA EMPRAH!" The Angry Marine commanded, as several medics ran over, treating the wound immediately, while the Angry Marine ran through another building, wielding his power chair. A commissar came over, looking at Klaus, as Klaus struggled to stay awake.

"You did fine work. What is your name, trooper?"

"652733-172948 'Klaus', sir."

"Know yourself from now on as Grenadier 652733-172948 'Klaus'. Not many can survive fighting an ork nob." The Commissar said, before turning to the medics.

"See that this man gets the finest prosthetic possible." The Commissar ordered. The medics saluted, as they dragged the bleeding soldier away. The memory started to shatter and fall apart, as The Warlock returned to the realm of consciousness.

Review Time

Zazi: This may be true, however this did not occur, or happen.


	8. Chapter 8: She will not fail us

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So anyways, I wanna get out as many chapters as possible before I leave for vacation.

So this chapter is a bit short, but I hope thats alright.

So anyways, I hope you enjoy.

Bluddflagg rubbed his head with his massive hand. By Gork and Mork themselves, he had a headache worse then a headbanga. He got up, grabbing his cutlass and kustom shoota, looking around. He seemed to be in some kind of desert, large mushrooms as trees. He was in an elevated position, with . He realised that his other members of his crew were still knocked out as well, and groaned.

"Alright ya gits. Get up." Bluddflagg growled, giving Spookums a good kick. He groaned, getting up, reloading his Kustom Shoota, shoving another clip into the rifle. Bluddflagg glanced around, seeing Mista Nailbrain rising up, checking his big shoota, scratching his cybork eye.

"Mista Nailbrain. Status Reporta." Bluddflagg ordered. Mista Nailbrain stopped scratching his eye, before looking around.

"Da Status Reporta iz still broken on da Krooza, cap'n." Mista Nailbrain reported, glancing around on the environment.

"Oh… me krooza…" Bluddflagg moaned, getting flashbacks of when his Kill Krooza was shot down by dose humie gits. Now he was supposed to guard a humie. The irony did not go unnoticed.

"Oi… boss? Take a look at dis…" Spookums said, hoisting his Kustom Shoota. The two orks came up to him, looking at the strange creatures that he found. It was a small group of green creatures, moving along a dirt road. They carried axes and swords, and seemed to be on a patrol.

"Dose look like some good ol ork boyz!" Bluddflagg noted.

"Dey dont got good kit doe." Mista Nailbrain growled.

"So… we shank em?" Spookums asked.

"No Spookums. We gotta be ol sneaky loike." Bluddflagg replied calmly.

"So we push em down sum stairs?" Spookums retorted.

"Now yer talkin!" Bluddflagg grinned. Spookums would make a find Kaptain one day.

"Boss, dey still orks doe. And we gotta go find dat Deff Korp humie, before e gets zogged up by da spooky boyz." Mista Nailbrain pointed out, and then they were stuck on square one. Of what to do.

"Dat too. Hm. Weze in a pre... pre… um… stickey sit… erm… problem." Bluddflagg said. The three orks each thought of a kunnin plan. While Spookums was still thinking of how he would push them down some stairs, and Bluddflagg was still thinking of his zogged up cruiser, Mista Nailbrain realized something.

"Ey look! Humies!" Mista Nailbrain exclaimed, pointing at the general direction. The two orks looked, and they saw a small group of humies coming close to the ork boys. Soon, they found each other, and a large argument was taking place.

"Boss, maybe, we zog up dose humies, and da boyz will take us to da boss!" Spookums declared.

"Hmph. I spit on da banna of any uvva ork… but I fink we shuld meet dere boss. Let's go stomp sum humies!" Bluddflagg cackled, and the three orks moved into position, hiding behind the red rocks of the small canyon they were in. Spookums pulled out his speshul shoota, a shoota dat made big booms, leaving leaky pieces of meat. In short, they zogged up whoever was on the receiving end of the shoota.

"WAAAGH!"

/

The patrol was routine. Check to make sure that nothing was blocking the roads, return to Orgrimmar. Well, it was as routine as it could get. They already have come upon several troubles. They had been ambushed by Quillboars. Often known as Pig men, and for very good reason, they were savage beasts, but were smart and well disciplined. They were extremely aggressive, and fought with no mercy, often giving their lives just to take down at least one enemy. Not cowardly like Murlocs, they fought to the death. The once twenty strong patrol had been reduced to now four orcs, and a few trolls. The leader of the patrol, Sindres Forerunner, had gotten many kills on the Quilboar pack herself. She had even killed the pig men shaman in hand to hand combat, after they had disarmed each other. However, now they were more weary. Her axe was stained with the blood of the Quilboars. One of her men reported hearing something outside the canyon, but she ignored this. Fear did play the strings of the patrol. In addition to getting ambushed by Quilboar, now there was this. A small band of humans,around thirty. They were well armed, and seemed refreshed. She couldn't risk a battle here and now, with her warband so tired and weary. She would have to use diplomacy.

"Halt, horde scum!" A human yelled at her, as the two parties converged.

"Horde scum? You're in our lands, state your business." Sindres demanded, hefting her axe. Both sides tried to intimidate each other, to varying success.

"Here to clean this land of your filth." The leader said, followed by harsh barks of laughter.

"This is horde territory. Leave now, or we will be forced to fight." Sindres said, trying to keep herself calm, but it slowly became less and less successful.

"This used to be OUR lands, greenskin. Go down on your knees, and we might think of sparing you." The human smiled cockily. The spirits themselves could not show how badly she wanted to chop his head off, but she knew that this was a fight she could not win.

"I have the feeling that you wouldn't live to your promises." She snorted, and the leader chuckled.

"No. But it would have been interesting. MEN! WEAPONS, LOOSE!" He shouted, and as one, thirty weapons were drawn.

"WAAAGH!" something yelled in savage anger. The two warbands looked amongst their warriors, but they all had the same confused look on their face. That was until one human screamed, and they all whipped around to see it. It was massive, a green monster, seemingly covered in junk and scrap. A massive sword plunged straight through the humans plated armor, red ichor pouring out.

"Ya posh humies fink ya can threaten da orks? I's gonna krump ya!" It cackled, firing it's firearm. Two soldiers fell down screaming, holes in their armor. Two more of the creatures came from the shadows, firing their weapons. More and more soldiers fell, as the desperate humans attacked the massive giant. It cackled in savage glee, swinging its sword, cutting another human in half, blood fountaining out its body. Swords were driven into the giant, steel digging into its flesh, but it only made it madder. It jumped up into the air, and then landed back down, shaking the ground like an earthquake. With the scissoring patterns of gunfire from the three beasts, the human party was quickly cut down. The last one left was the leader, ironically. The massive beast grabbed him by the scruff of the neck like a cat, a glowing red eye peering at him.

"Dis was pafetic! Go to yer boss, to send 'arder humies, fore I come and squish the twig myself." It spat, flinging him away. The leader ran away, followed by the cackling of the beasts.

"Wha- Wha- What are you?" Sindres stammered, as the three beasts looked at her, rather confused.

"We's orks. Loike you." The smallest one said, still hefting its massive firearm.

"Well if you are orcs, then you must be the biggest one I've ever seen…" Sindres mumbled, looking over the massive beasts. The largest one, seemingly the leader, was the most impressive out of the bunch. Its armor was a junkyard, scraps of junk seemingly taped together. One baleful red eye looked at her, the other covered with a small piece of metal. A seemingly metal jaw made its helmet, although did not cover its massive tusks, one of them made from gold.

"And who do we offer our thanks to?" She asked, looking all around the massive ork.

"I'm Kaptain Bluddflagg. Dis be me first mate, Mista Nailbrain, and me finest Kommando, Spookums." He said, showing off his protegee. Mista Nailbrain was around her size, one eye organic, the other seemingly metallic. He carried the massive firearm in both hands, a small sack of ammo strapped to his back. He carried a screw in his mouth, which he fumbled with like a cigar. He also had the same scrap heap like armor and weaponry. Spookums, was vastly different. He was large, but not as large as Kaptain Bluddflagg. He held a rifle that looked more like a grenade launcher then an actual gun. Compared to the other two orks, he was lightly protected. As a matter of fact, he had very little armor at all, only a leather tunic covering his chest. His backpack was full of things. Grenades, Mines, and other explosives and ammunition.

"Whose ya boss?" Spookums asked, shoving in some shells.

"You mean… leader?" Sindres offered.

"Ya. Dats a boss."

"Well… I mean we would take you back to Orgrimmar…" She mumbled.

"Orgrimmar? Dats a zoggin weird name." Mista Nailbrain said, rotating the screw in his mouth.

"Mista Nailbrain. Dey is our… en… erm… boyz. Fittin we see da boss, and foind da humie weze lookin for." Bluddflagg said, shaking his massive sword of blood.

"Alroight. Take us to orgrimmar." Spookums said, and the patrol began to walk once more, leaving the butchered remains of the alliance warband.

/

Klaus shivered slightly, the cool air blowing into him, as he awoke. He sighed, taking a deep breath from his mask. It seemed to be getting colder and colder by the day. Perhaps winter was coming. Klaus grabbed his Lasgun, as his other hand went into his satchel, rummaging his hands around. He realised with disappointment, that his rations were out. He frowned, as he realised that without something to eat, that he would not be able to move at an acceptable pace. He would have to go hunting, or at the very least, visit a town or village to buy more rations for the journey. However, he didn't really want to do that. Although he had quite a lot of gold, he had wanted to save it for something that may be deemed necessary, or invaluable. He got off his boulder, slinging his lasgun over his back, as he descended into the woods, scanning the trees. Soon, after twenty minutes of stalking the forests, he found what he was looking for. Prey. It was a Stag, that calmly was drinking at the river. The Death Korps were not known for hunting and stalking their enemies, instead drowning them in men and lasgun fire, but he would have to improvise, as he did not have nearly enough men to simply tarpit the deer. He slowly unslung his rifle, aiming for the head. He mumbled a prayer to the Emperor, and fired. The laser beam landed straight in its eye. It did not make a sound, as the stag collapsed, the hole in its head cauterized. He came closer to the stag, observing the body. It wasn't large, so he assumed for it to be a young ling. No matter, however. Meat was Meat, wherever it came from. He hoisted the dead body onto his shoulder, and began to carry it back to the campsite. He did not like that now he had to hunt. Although it did partially vent his frustration, going to hunt and going to war were two different sensations. It also wasted precious time, which was now not only money, but part of his life. He knew that he could not possibly defeat the foul champions of chaos by himself, for he was a lowly guardsman. He decided to disregard this for now, and instead, focused on skinning the deer.

/

Shalen groggily awoke, rubbing her eyes. If she would learn anything from this trip, it would be how those tree hugging kaldorei lived. And so far, she wasn't liking it. She heard the sound of knives cutting into meat, and her hand went to her two fine daggers, only to find they were not in their sheaths. She snapped her head to the sound, only to find Klaus cutting into some poor animal. She sighed, rubbing her eyes once again. She learned to be always

"What are you doing?" She demanded, as he saw the man digging into the flesh of the animal, peeling the skin, revealing the muscle underneath.

"Making breakfast, xeno." He said simply, throwing the peeled skin into the bushes, and then started cutting into the corpse.

"We don't have any sandwiches?" She asked, shivering. It was cold today.

"I was not aware you liked my cooking, but no. We have run out of rations." He grunted, carving into the meat, and then sticking it onto a spit.

"Well no, your cooking is utter shit, but I would have thought we could have head to a settlement, or something." She mumbled, slightly blushing. Klaus did not return the favor.

"Why don't you ever take off that mask?" She asked him. He looked up, and then down again.

"It is tradition. This gasmask is like a second heart." He said, pointing to his mask. "This, and the rest of my gear, is the last tie I have of my home." He replied.

"Don't you think you can return?" She asked him, and he shrugged.

"Unlikely." He mumbled, wiping the daggers clean of blood, before handing it to her.

"Although it hurts me to compliment a xeno and its technology, it is made of fine craftsmanship. Where did you get it?" He asked. She chuckled.

"I was once targeted by an assassin. This is my finest trophy." She smiled, swinging the blade around.

"So you are an assassin, and a spy. I question why you haven't killed you yet." Klaus said, and she merely shrugged.

"To be honest, I don't know either." She said, Klaus giving her a curious glance, even through his tinted lenses.

"You're a very interesting man, Klaus. While most humans I've met are cocky and arrogant and cowardly, and care for nothing but themselves, you seem to defy this. You're calm under nearly every situation, skilled in combat, and have a resolve of steel. I've only known you for a week or two, but so far…" She said, looking over Klaus's body, and smiled.

"I'm liking what I'm seeing." She giggled. Klaus did not respond, instead twisting the meat on the spit. Inside, Shalen fumed. Her attempts to dig under his complete ignorance were failing. Horribly. Her attempts to humor him, were failing. Horribly. Her attempts to even get his attention for even more for ten seconds, were failing. Horribly. Her plans started to unravel in front of her, simply because of one thing. Although Klaus was not an idiot, he was the most oblivious, ignorant man she had ever met. Part of her was enraged by this, but another part… another part was humored. Very few could resist the beauty of elves, but Klaus was doing wonders against her, if he knew it or not, it didn't matter. She smiled inwardly. She always liked a challenge.

/

Isenvan looked amongst the council of seers, warlocks, and farseers. The major craftworlds all met on one exodite planet, putting aside their quarrels. The most powerful seers sat around a round table, all looking among each other.

"So what of the savior mon-keigh?" He asked, finally breaking the ice. The seers looked at him, and he slightly shivered.

"He is doing well. He is making good progress, but his companion has other plans." Eldrad responded, surprising them all. They hadn't expected Eldrad to actually talk at all, instead practicing the art of Just as Planned on the seers.

"What plans?" A Warlock asked him.

"His companion is trying to bend him to her will. Luckily, ignorance found in all mon-keigh is protecting him. For now."

"For now? What does that mean?"  
"I mean that without something to enforce his ignorance, it will crumble, and he will be left vulnerable…"

"And what of the orks?"  
"They are heading to the capital of the faction known as the horde. I believe that the warboss may challenge the leader of the horde."

"And what would come of this?"  
"Only our plans crumbling into oblivion. We must prevent the two orks from fighting, for the warbosses superior strength will triumph, and will throw the world into anarchy"

"And how are the forces of chaos?"  
"They still have not found a way in… but the assaults on the Black Library have become worse. Ahriman is getting closer and closer, and soon, the Harlequins will not be able to fight them off forever. Then, not only will the Thousand Sons have pilfered the Black Library of all of its hidden knowledge, but they will find away to get into the alternate realm, without too many troubles."  
"Then we must reinforce the Black Library. We cannot let the forces of Chaos get in any earlier then we have predicted."

"That will not be easy. It appears the next raid will have other forces of chaos. A warband of the Death Guard are accompanying Ahriman in his siege."

"Nurgle… what would he want from the Library?"  
"A way to protect himself, no doubt."

"Still, we must hold out as long as possible. However, we should have surveillance of the savior mon-keigh. We should send someone to make sure he plays to our strings."

"Their is a high likelihood that they may never return. Whether from the Recall, or the actual Deployment. The chances of surviving are unlikely, to say the least."

"Any cost must be taken to get rid of all of the dark gods, she who thirsts included."

"Then do we have a candidate?"

"Yes. My Granddaughter has long seeked to prove herself. This would be the perfect opportunity."

"Eldrad, you would send… her… to the realm, with very little chance of returning?"

"She is viewed as an abomination, anywhere! The Imperium, the Craftworlds. This will be a chance to redeem herself. Although I don't want to, I do not want my kin to be viewed as a monster against nature."  
"Very well, then. When is the next time we can open a temporary portal?"  
"Two days."  
"Very well, then. I assume, that you will converse her with this in… private?"

"She has long looked to prove herself to the craftworld. She will not fail."

"Very well then. Grant her luck, for she will need it. Every bit of it."

"Lofn will not fail us. I promise."

Review Time

Guest: Ok


	9. Chapter 9: Deadweight

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH here!

So nearly at ten chapters, and already, this thing is over 30k words.

I appreciate the support that I am getting from this.

So I hope that you can enjoy this chapter :)

Klaus urged Ketzer onward, as they descended into a marshy area. Shalen had said that this was a shortcut, and would hopefully cut down the trip by a few hours, which was needed after the hunting of the stag. However, with the eerily silence of the birds chirping and the normal sounds of travel were diminished, as they descended into the swamp.

"Shalen, I have the feeling that you are leading me into a trap." Klaus grumbled, his hand slowly grabbing the handle of his chainsword. Even though he was always weary, he knew that something was wrong.

"If this was a trap, I wouldn't have made it so obvious." She replied back, as they both scanned the marsh, one with a finger on the activation stud, the other grasped firmly around the handles of a dagger. Then, a thin fog began to sweep through the marsh land, partially blocking line of sight. Klaus murmured to himself. This was a trap, and if not that, then something was wrong. Very wrong.

"Shalen… What creatures live in these marshes?"

"Murlocs, if we're lucky." She mumbled, looking through the fog.

"Lucky… and if we're not lucky?" He replied, and she merely shivered.

"Naga…"

"Naga? What are they?"  
"Naga were once high elves, but they have been mutated and twisted into something more…"

"Mutants, in xeno ranks? Never thought I'd live to see that." Klaus said, pulling out his lasgun, and fired a blind shot into the fog. A cry was heard out of the fog, as a murloc collapsed, a hole in its head.

 _Murlocs. Guess were lucky huh?_ He thought to himself, leaping off of Ketzer, as he fired into the fog once again. The laser partially dissolved the cloud of fog, killing another murloc. Shalen leaped off, twirling her dual daggers, as the two faced opposite of each other, sandwiching Ketzer, who looked around in panic, looking at two different fields. Klaus realized that he should not use his chainsword. The noise would scare away Ketzer, and waste more time trying to find him. He fixed his knife onto the bayonet, sensing the brutal melee ahead. More Murlocs came out of the fog, and as one, they charged. Klaus fired again and again, sorely missing a hellguns burst of fire. Murloc after Murloc fell, their fleshy bodies and weak armor doing nothing to prevent the scorching laser beams. Finally, they got into melee range, and he charged. He dug the bayonet deep in a Murlocs stomach, hoisting it up. It squealed, the knife digging deeper into its body, until it popped out in the back. He flung it aside, blocking a blow with his lasgun. On the inside, he worried of how much damage his lasgun would take until it was considered useless. The lasgun, reliable as it is, is not infallible. He kicked out with his prosthetic leg, breaking a neck, while he jabbed at another Murloc, as it used its wooden buckle to block the blow. They were swamping him, with very little care of their comrades. He swung his lasgun like a club, breaking a Murlocs jaw, before swinging it downward, cracking a skull. He would have to pray for forgiveness to the machine spirit, as he fought with zeal. Then, the murlocs came at him as one, instead going in one at a time. He fired the lasgun again and again, as they leaped on top of him. He felt a blade digging into his shoulder, going through a chink in his shoulder plates. He snarled, as he gave a headbutt, the carapace armored helmet smashing against its skull. He kicked out, feeling both of his feet hitting a target. While one was dazed, the other reeled back with a broken leg. Without a second thought of his bodies condition, he ripped the blade out of his greatcoat, blood spurting out of the wound. No matter. He would have to fix that later. He jabbed his new found blade into a murlocs chest, and left it there, as he continued to dodge and block blows. It was by complete chance that the Murlocs did not consider attacking Ketzer, but Ketzer was brave enough to hold his position, watching as his masters fought off the tide of beasts. Klaus fired the lasgun again, a murloc reeling back as its left leg was torn apart. Klaus stomped on its head, before jabbing a bayonet into a Murlocs throat, blood pooling out.

 _These foes are endless. And so is my wrath._ Klaus thought to himself, and chuckled lightly, as he shoved a bayonet into a Murlocs eye, all before he heard a woman scream. Ketzer squealed in fear, and ran, crushing five murlocs underneath his hooves as he ran.

 _Frak._ He thought, as Ketzer fled, revealing Shalen on the ground, with wounds all over her body, surrounded by dead murlocs.

 _COME FOUL XENOS! TASTE MY WRATH, TASTE MY FURY! FOR THE EMPEROR, AND FOR THE DEATH KORPS!_ Klaus roared in his head, with reinvigorated fury, as he charged into the disorganized mess of the surviving Murlocs.

/

Klaus shoved the bayonet into the murlocs throat, causing blood to stain his greatcoat. It mattered little. It was nearly green with all of the blood that came out. He looked over the battlefield, and sighed. Nearly fifty murlocs lied dead in the marshes, the fog cloud receding. He realised that Shalen might still be alive. He grabbed his bleeding shoulder, and ripped a blade out of his prosthetic leg. He came over, and lifted Shalen's still breathing body. He sighed. She had gashes all over her chests and face, disfiguring her beauty, and a large hole in her gut, which was bleeding rapidly. She wheezed, trying to get up, but he lightly pushed her down. Glancing at the wounds all over her, she would not make it, even with the healing elixir he had in his backpack.

"I am sorry, xeno Shalen. There is very little I can do for you." He said monotonously, raising his lasgun, sliding in a new powercell. She looked at herself, and she sighed. She also knew, that she would not live to see another day. She had fought valiantly, but even then, skill can do very little when you were completely surrounded.

"But I made a promise. I made a promise to you, that you would not die at the slavering maw of a beast, or the wretched axe of a foul barbarian. I promised that you would die a quick death at my hand. Find peace in death, xeno Shalen." He said, slowly aiming his lasgun at her head. She let out one last smile, a tear rolling down her cheek, as suddenly with her last bit of strength she hugged his legs. Klaus paused, his brain temporarily hardwiring. His head began to simply combust like a match to promethium, information spewing out of his train of thought. The task was simple, aim the gun, and fire. But never had he had physical contact like this. He had fought with his bare hands. He was used to that kind of contact, even though it was sporadic. But never had he received physical contact that wasn't from fighting, not like this, at least. Especially from a xeno. She let go, slowly edging herself onto the ground once more. She looked up at him with her green eyes, and Klaus slowly took off his helmet, and then his gasmask. Why did he do this? To give her a final wish? Of seeing his face? Hasn't she already seen it?. The two looked at each other, a cold and calm face looking at a painful, and sorrowful one. Although Klaus was very good at hiding his emotions, as all Korpsmen were, inside, a war was being warred in his head. Should he grant her the quick, merciful death that he promised her, or grant simply leave her? Leave the xeno for the carrion birds! No, give her a quick death! She would have done the same! No, it is a xeno!

"End it. Take my things, and go to Darnassus. They never would have let me in anyways... Just… Just end it." she said one last time.

LEAVE HER!

END HER!

KILL HER!

SAVE HER!

DO SOMETHING!

"Find peace in death, Shalen." He said, as she closed her eyes, and he pulled the trigger.

/

Kaptain Bluddflagg looked at the capital of the horde, and he merely snorted. It certainly looked impressive, but it was lacking in the orky category. Mista Nailbrain was practically drooling, thinking of all the ways to make the fort better. He couldn't blame him. Mista Nailbrain hadn't worked on a project in a long time, and making an entire city orky by himself was no small feat.

"So dis be Orgrimmar huh?" Spookums said, as the patrol came to the massive front gates of the city. Bluddflagg was rather surprised that things rather than orks were here. Strange cow like creatures and even elves manned the walls, and this surprised him. These orks were certainly un orky. Not only did they form full sentences, but siding with other orks were downright unorky. Sure, orks occasionally sided with other races, such as the spiky boyz, space marines, humies, and those twigs, but that was only long enough before the orks turned on them. Hell, then there were the Blood Axes, who acted like humies, and sometimes worked with them, but they still were orks. They still acted like orks. However, these orks on the other hand, they accepted each other, as members of their own community.

"Halt! State your purpose!" One of the guards demanded, as one of the orcs looked back up.

"Patrol. Picked up a few… um… newcomers…" She said, jerking her head to the three orks. The guards all stared hard at him, a mix of astonishment, fear, and… admiration? Bluddflagg snorted at this. All orks wanted to be the biggest and bestest, but being complemented by non orks was an alien thought to him.

"And what do they want?" A guard asked.

"We want to see da boss, now open da door, fore I krump ya to paste." Bluddflagg snarled, stomping his foot into the ground for good measures. The guards looked amongst each other and shrugged, as the gates opened.

"Try not to make yourself look like a bigger target then you are already…" The ork snapped at him, and Bluddflagg was surprised. Normally, orks who didn't like what he did went to the complaints department. The complaints department was his gun. But this ork was brave. Brave to challenge him, at least. He grunted in respect. Very few even tried to challenge his authority.

"Alroight. Spookums, Mista Nailbrain. I want ya gits to explur da fort, and report to me. Ya gots me? Weze gotta know da kultur."

"Ya boss." They both replied simultaneously, as they started to walk together down an alley, walking amongst the streets, earning more than a few glances as merchants, citizens, and warriors alike looked at the massive figures.

"So now, why do you want to meet the Warchief?"

"I'ze intreeged. Orks dun normally work wiff uvva species, unless dey slaves. An ya fort certenly looks noice." He grumbled, looking over the massive walls and the armed guards that cautiously looked at him. Bluddflagg growled, raising his kutlass only slightly, but the message went through.

"What kind of clan did you come from then?" She asked, as they slowly walked along.

"Klan? No No, I aint from no Klan. I'm a freeboota." Bluddflagg said, pointing to his pirate hat, as well as his bosspole.

"Freeboota?" She asked cautiously.

"Pirate, as da umies call us." Bluddflagg replied calmly.

"Well, try not to steal anything, and we'll be fine." She snorted, as they kept walking. Bluddflagg was now VERY impressed. He could use a member in his krew like her.

"I aint no deff skull." He mumbled.

"Excuse me?"

"I sed, I aint no Deff Skull. I dun loike repeeting myself." Bluddflagg said again

"I never heard of Deff Skulls. What do they specialise in?"

"Only being lootas n gits. If ya missin somefing, da Deff Skulls have it, most loikely." He said, looking around, a frown appearing on his face.

"I'm still not impressed."

"About what?"

"Dis place be lakkin propa orky kultur."

"Orky Kultur?"

"Ya. Da kultur of da boyz, of da WAAAGH! Instead, I'm serronded by a bunch of Squig Herders." He spat.

"Is that an insult?"

"No. Izza fact."

"I bet the females in your society are even more brutish than you are…"

"Females? Wots dat?" Bluddflagg asked, and at this, the orc visually bristled.

"You don't know what Females are?"

"Dats why I said 'Wots Dat' ya git."

"… we got a lot to talk about…"

/

After twenty minutes of searching through the murlocs corpses, pilfering them of gold and slightly carving into them, taking several pieces of meat for the road (which he severely did not want to do, but he was still low on supplies) he had found Ketzer. Ketzer was hiding among the trees, and slowly came out, and Klaus merely sighed.

"Come now Ketzer. You have one less deadweight on your back." Klaus said, vaulting onto Ketzer, as they started to leave the marsh, heading back to the main road. Suddenly, Ketzer stopped. Klaus looked down, to see that Ketzer was looking down at the corpse of Shalen.

"She is dead, Ketzer. We can do nothing for her." Klaus said firmly, but Ketzer had other plans. With his snout, he poked at her bag, which she had carried on her back. Klaus sighed, jumping down, and retrieving the xenos bag.

"Happy?" He asked him, and as a reply, Ketzer happily trotted down the mainroad. Klaus was rather conflicted of what to do now. Shalen, although being a xeno and a rogue, still had her uses. She was horde, so he would be more likely to be accepted into Horde Territory. In addition she knew the lay of the land. Now she was dead, lying on the ground. He thought about giving her a proper burial, but he decided it would be take too much time. He glanced at the map, struggling to find out what direction he was even in. As he looked at the map, he realised that the region he was in was surrounded by mountains. With no other way through them, he would have to go through the smallest region of the mountains. He quickly went through Shalen's satchel, and he found a compass, which was hidden by some cloth. He looked at the map, and discerned that he would have to be heading north. Klaus's mind inevitably, went back to the dead xeno. The way she looked at him, the way she talked from him… what did she want from him? He remembered their short conversations, trying to uncover, anything really. Normally, Klaus would care very little for the life of a xeno, and in all honesty, he was rather happy that the xeno was dead. But, he still felt something. He felt something, very alien, that was gnawing on his soul, like a dog chews a bone. He couldn't name this emotion that was chewing on him, but regardless, it was annoying him. Badly. He took a quick look at his prosthetic leg, that there were still shards of steel in his prosthetic. Luckily, it had only breached the surface, and not the delicate machinery inside. He yanked out several shards of steel, flinging them away. A quick shot of pain went from his shoulder down, as he was reminded of his wound. He glanced at his bleeding shoulder, and realized that he still had that healing elixir, or whatever it was called. His hand instinctively went for his bag, but he stopped himself. His former superior was a psyker. How could he trust her? He grabbed the vial, looking at it cautiously. It was a glowing pink liquid, that sloshed around in the small glass vial. He slowly took off his mask, taking a quick sniff of the wafting chemicals. It strangely smelled like fruits. He decided that not only was his superior a psyker, but a fool, for giving him something like this. Never should you entrust the enemy with something so delicate. He chugged it down, and wiped his mouth of the pink liquid. He felt a strange sensation on his shoulder. He took a quick glance at it, and found that it was healing before his own eyes. The skin stitched itself together, as the bleeding stopped, the skin knitting the wound shut. Klaus grumbled to himself, throwing the glass vial as far as he could, hearing the vial shatter in the distance. He chuckled to himself, urging Ketzer to a full sprint. Even as he kept trying to push these alien thoughts back, they only kept coming. The tear that came out of her eye. What did that mean? Was she scared? Was she sad? No, it wasn't either, she certainly didn't look scared. Was she… disappointed? Disappointed? In what? Her ability to fight, and dying to a bunch of ruffian? That she could not live another day? She hugged his legs. Why? For comfort? Lunacy? All of these questions ran around his head, and he struggled to contain them. Focus not on the thoughts, but on the objective, he told himself. But still, the last look that she gave him… what did that mean? What did that signify? This, he could not answer. And no matter how high his mental barriers were, it still managed to climb over every wall, every guardpost that was rectified as part of his training as a Korpsman. Every day, every minute, every second, it felt like the comforting walls in his mind were slowly chipping. Every piece of what he had comfort in was chipping away, and this… this he reviled.

/

Spookums looked among the stands, nothing really peaking his interest. The two orks were unaware of the glances they got from civilians and warriors alike, some looking at their weaponry, while others looking at their size.

"Spookums, were da zog do ya fink dose twigs took us?" Mista Nailbrain asked casually, hoisting his big shoota over his shoulder. Spookums looked down at him, and shrugged.

"Dun know. I don loike dese stares dat were gettin." Spookums said, glaring accusingly at a group of orc guards, who merely chuckled.

"Da boss sed ta lern da kultur of dese boys doe. So wot do we do?" Mista Nailbrain asked, as they turned the corner.

"Da typikal place ta learn da kultur be da drop. But dis place dun look typikal. So best we foind sum brewa boyz." Spookums declared.

"Damn straight. But wait. Wot do dese boys use fur monee?"

"I dun fink teef."

"Maybe we ask."

Spookums shrugged, as they approached the gaggle of guards. They were laughing amongst each other, and then were made aware of their presence by the shadow that the nob made.

"Ey boyz. Ya know wot dese boyz use fur money?" Spookums asked them. They looked at the nob, the arrangement of explosives, shells and mines on his backpack, and his massive rifle.

"Thats a pretty nice firearm." One ork said, pointing it out. Spookums smiled, showing it off.

"Is da flashiest, and da bestest shoota. Iz kustom too." He said, giving a quick wink, showing off the kustom shoota.

"Peh. Das nuffin. Take a look at dis." Mista Nailbrain said, showing off his big shoota. A wide grin came from the orcs, as they looked at their weaponry.

"Where did you get it?" One of them asked. To this, Spookums jerked a thumb to Mista Nailbrain, who grinned.

"You can make these?" They asked, and he smiled.

"Dey be da best shootas ya ever seen. I dont werk for free doe." Mista Nailbrain said, giving them a toothy grin. The guards looked amongst themselves and nodded, and handed him gold coins.

"So dey dont use teef." Spookums mumbled to himself, as Mista Nailbrain greedily took the coins, looked at them, and smiled.

"Ya'll get ya shoota's soon enuff." Mista Nailbrain smiled, and they grinned back.

"Care to demonstrate how they work?" One of the guards asked. Mista Nailbrain smiled. To this, Spookums took a few step backs. Mista Nailbrain was one step short of becoming a flashgit, he knew.

"Name ya target." He said, hoisting his big shoota. One of the guards took a bottle out a small pile of garbage, putting it on a fence. Mista Nailbrain cackled, pointing his big shoota.

"Die!" Mista Nailbrain cackled, as he fired the big shoota. A torrent of bullets ripped through the fence, until nothing was left. The bottle crashed to the ground. Mista Nailbrain kicked the small pile of bullet shells away, and looked at the orc guards. They were grinning with fire in their eyes.

Review Time

There arent any reviews. Not doesent that suck? It sucks for me. So you know what?

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In metus orci, maximus eget tellus nec, placerat auctor magna. Maecenas vitae convallis tellus, et commodo lorem. Duis tincidunt, arcu aliquet rhoncus porttitor, ipsum ante luctus ligula, non efficitur nisl tellus eget elit. Maecenas tempus fringilla dui in auctor. Suspendisse congue dictum justo sed faucibus. Fusce tempor egestas neque. Mauris gravida vel arcu at molestie. Fusce blandit a nunc fringilla sollicitudin. Duis non lorem orci. Donec sollicitudin tempus aliquet. Nulla vulputate gravida erat, at cursus purus suscipit in. Morbi vel urna mi. Fusce rutrum egestas scelerisque. Duis pretium neque a pulvinar hendrerit.

Proin ullamcorper libero augue, eget faucibus quam scelerisque sit amet. Aliquam vulputate aliquet ornare. Suspendisse auctor eu mi a interdum. Mauris fermentum tellus felis, vel molestie risus iaculis vel. Mauris semper nunc a risus gravida, eu semper turpis lacinia. Sed pulvinar urna et erat finibus, ac scelerisque augue maximus. Nulla ut egestas lacus. Proin tempus pulvinar ullamcorper. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Fusce dignissim libero vitae nibh elementum commodo ut at urna. Phasellus sagittis ex in convallis congue. Maecenas facilisis orci mi, sed tempus dolor aliquam ac. Duis imperdiet sed felis et aliquam. Ut lacus sem, elementum a laoreet in, mattis vel dui. Donec sollicitudin ex et dolor fringilla hendrerit. Fusce accumsan aliquet porttitor.


	10. Chapter 10: Calm before the Storm

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!

Now I may get some fluff things wrong, as you may see further down.

Chaos isnt really my favorite faction, and thus, know very little about them.

Anyways, I hope you can enjoy this chapter :)

(Also, ten chapters! Yay!)

Nightfall came once again, as Klaus sat by the campfire, roasting the murloc meat over a spit. He was spared of the horrible stench of the murloc meat by his gasmasks respirator. Ketzer sat next to him, as they both watched the fire. Klaus opened his backpack, and went through his bag. He finally found what he was looking for. His journal. He grabbed a pen, and took a good look at it. The pen was given to him by a Planetary Governor, who taught him how to draw, as he and several other grenadiers were ordered to guard him while they dealt with orks. His mind slowly went back to orks. Orks. Those foul, greenskin monstrosities, were now in this world. His hand firmly grasped the stock of his lasgun, the skin underneath his black gloves going white. How could those insidious eldar trust orks, enough to make them bodyguards? Orks, bodyguards? The thought was absurd! They hated humans, for all he knew! Why the hell would they trust orks? If he would of have xenos to guard him, he would at least picked a species which we could put a small bit of trust in, like the Tau, for example. Instead, orks! Forget the orks, he told himself, as he looked at his journal, opening it. He looked through his drawings, nostalgia running through his blood. The first one he ever did, was of his good friend, 435612-983610 'Karen'. She was also a grenadier, and they had been promoted around the same time, as well. Of course, the promotion was no honor. It just mean you had more skill, or more luck than your average rank and file guardsman. Underneath his gasmask, he smiled a little bit, as he looked at the drawing he made of her. She was standing at attention, with her gasmask off, making a crisp salute, heels together, one fist on her chest. He could never forget her silver like eyes, the white hair that would drive a sister of battle mad. She still had a face of stone, as expected, but in her eyes as he drew her, he could see something, which he would never forget. He could never name this emotion, but it made him happy, and made him blush on the inside. He liked this emotion, on someone so familiar. Of course, that was until the day when she left. The day she was inducted into an Inquisitor's retinue. It was a great honor, but on the inside, it saddened him slightly. He never knew why this made him sad. Sadness. It was an emotion a Korpsman should never feel. Ever. You felt no sadness as you watched your fellow troops died, because it was driven out of you a long time ago. You felt no sadness as you plunged a bayonet into a foul xeno, and both shared the same feeling that so many living creatures felt every day. The feeling, that one was going to die, and was looking into the eyes of their killer. Lesser creatures showed emotion. Pride, Rage, Sadness, Happiness. But true men, true Korpsmen showed no emotion, none that could be seen, at the very least. You were silent as you continued the charge, You were silent as fell to the ground, dead. Sadness was a strange emotion, and now Klaus was starting to feel it. Unlike the unnamed emotion that still chewed on him, Sadness was like a cloud, that simply slowly surrounded him. It got worse as drops of water began to land on the ground. Klaus stuck his hand out, feeling drops of rain fall onto his glove. He sighed, as he led Ketzer back into the trees, as the fire was slowly extinguished by the heavy rains. Klaus sat down, leaning on the back of a tree, as he slowly went to sleep.

/

Ahriman was normally, a calm sorcerer. He wanted to get into the Black Library for two reasons. He wanted to cure his legion of the Rubric of Ahriman, which he considered to be a rather colossal failure on his part, and to rebuild Prospero, the former homeworld of the Thousand Sons. Even though he was banished by their Primarch, Magnus the Red, he still wished to help his former legion. Now, Ahriman was seething. Ahriman glanced at Typhus, who sat a small bit away from him, for sanitary reasons. Ahriman was very surprised when Typhus and a Warband of Death Guard came to him, and asked if they could help get a foothold in the Black Library of Chaos. But when Ahriman asked why, Typhus replied calmly, that if they did not get a way into the Black Library, the chaos gods would simply be no more. Apparently, the eldar had found a way into the sacred realm of chaos, where the four gods came from, and now seeked to reverse the corruption they had made. Ahriman was not a dedicated servant of Tzeentch, like Typhus was dedicated to Nurgle. Ahriman simply was on a quest of knowledge, but this tadbit of information angered him to no end. Everything that he had seeked to do, would be ruined. Ruined, in a few months.

"Typhus, my friend. Are the Death Guard ready for the siege?" He asked, barely keeping the rage out of his voice. Typhus turned, his bloated bulk heaving with each breath he took.

"Yes… the death guard… are prepared… to serve chaos… once… more…" He wheezed, flies flying around his head like a small cloud. He made a slurping noise, and the flies retreated back into his flesh once again, digging in like bullets.

"Excellent. We head to the Imperial World of Baratos, in the Segmentum Tempestus. There, a hidden webway gate waits for us, and we shall lay siege to the Black Library. Then, we find the way to get into the strange realm, and we shall sanctify the realm of the dark gods once more." Ahriman declared. Typhus nodded, and walked away, using his manreaper like a cane. Ahriman followed, although carefully. Even though Ahriman was close to death, with that sanctified bullet ever so slowly digging into his armor, he still cared about his health, so he would not go within twenty steps of Typhus. Even then, he was making quite the mess, with a small trail of bile following him wherever he went.

"The eldar… will giggle…in delight... with our gifts…" Typhus said aloud, as he stepped out of the ruined building, looking at the vanguard of death guard. Three hundred Plague marines stood at attention, each in a different stage of decay. The Prodigal sons stood at attention as well, a good distance away from the plague marines, and for good reason. They shared the similar color scheme of the thousand sons, but they did not serve Tzeentch, but they served the quest for knowledge. Knowledge that was lost during the burning of Prospero.

"We shall capture the planet, and secure a beachhead from both Imperial and Eldar forces. We shall ask assistance from any chaos warbands that wish to show their qualities to the dark gods." Ahriman said, as Typhus turned to him.

"Indeed… The Purge… have heeded our call… they shall secure… the planet… powerful… are their chemicals…" Typhus wheezed, and Ahriman frowned underneath his helmet. The Purge were a nurgle warband that were hellbent on killing everything. Why they would seek to help the Death Guard and the Prodigal Sons, he did not know.

"Then we shall strike." Ahriman said, and at his command, the warbands began to board their ships, marching to glory.

" And we shall not fail."

/

Bluddflagg sat down at the table, crushing the chair that he tried to sit on, breaking it into large splinters. He growled, ripping the splinters out of his ass, sitting on the floor. On the other side of the small table was the ork warboss of the horde, Thrall. Bluddflagg was disgusted of how… small… this runt was. He barely reached his leg, and this annoyed him greatly. How could a warboss be so small? He looked well composed, which also annoyed him to no end. The warboss should the flashiest ork! Thrall at least was a bit flashy, wearing black armor, trimmed with gold. Two dreadlocks came out of his hair, which was covered by a hood. He wore two thick encasing gauntlets on his hands, and the look of confidence on his face made Bluddflagg want to laugh out loud.

"So Captain Bluddflagg… you dont appear to be of this realm… are you?" He asked patiently, drinking a small glass of water. Bluddflagg scoffed, lightly putting his hand on the table, making it groan.

"No. Some pointy eared twigs sent me and me krew to foind and guard some humie." He scoffed, taking the picture out of a pocket in his tunic, putting it on the table. Thrall grasped the picture and took a long look at him, and then grunted.

"Yes. I know this human." Thrall said, pushing the picture back to him. Bluddflagg's interest suddenly peaked.

"And were da humie be?" Bluddflagg asked patiently.

"An... ally... told me that he was heading to Darnassus, to apparently burn some spellbook. Although if I were him, I would head to Ratchet, and then get a ride to Astranaar. That's most likely what he would do." Thrall suggested.

"Ratchet? Da zog is dat? Aint dat a tool?"  
"No, Ratchet is a port town not far from here. Largest port in kalimdor, and friendly to all races."

"Das anuvva problem. Why da zog are ye boys so friendly with uvva species?"

"Excuse me?"

"Da orks huld neva be friends with uvva species. Weze orks. Weze got no friends."

"So why are you protecting this human?"

"I'm gettin paid."

"How much?"

"Wots it to ya?"  
"Curious."  
"Da twig promised da boyz da best foight I evva been in. Except smashin dat spiky lord. Dat was zoggin awesome." Bluddflagg cackled, pointing to the horned helmet of the chaos lord that he killed several years ago. He remembered as he screamed BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD, and was killed after twenty seconds of fighting. His helmet was on his bosspole now. Thrall took this into consideration. _So fighting is considered a payment_ he mused to himself. _Perhaps he has some use..._

"Bluddflagg, are you aware of the history of the orcs, and the horde in general?"

"You'ze askin me loike I care."  
"You know, captain, you dont have to be rude."

"I just need a roide to dis ratchet place, and den foind da humie. I aint da lernin type. Ask Mista Nailbrain for dat."

"In all due time. However, I need to validate that you can be trusted."

"Escoose me?"  
"I can't just simply send you over to one of the most populated neutral cities in Kalimdor now, right? Captain Bluddflagg, small I may be, compared to you, I'm no fool. You are a very dangerous orc, and it would be a sheer miracle that you didn't kill anyone in Orgrimmar, or in Ratchet. But it's unlikely. Unlikely as say, a Tauren and Centaur living in a house together. Possible, but extremely unlikely. As so, If you want to earn my trust, you could help us out, and in return, we can send you into the next boat to Ratchet, and you can meet up with your human friend." Thrall said, looking Bluddflagg right in the eye.

"Are, we, clear?" He asked slowly, and deliberately. Bluddflagg merely snorted. All of these puny runts certainly were brave, brave to argue with a warboss like himself. However, Bluddflagg was caught in a sticky situation. If he let his rage get a control of him and squish the runt here and now, he would not survive. In addition, he still had to find that humie, otherwise those twigs would come after him, and rob him of the promised fight.

"Foine. I'm in. Ill do… one… two… two fings for ya, and den ya take me and me krew to Ratchet." Bluddflagg stated. Thrall nodded.

"Then it is settled. Where is your crew anyways?" Thrall asked, a tad bit worried. Bluddflagg looked around, and merely shrugged.

"Probably drinking dem selves to deff. Zog, I dunno." Bluddflagg shrugged.

"Keep a tab on your crew, Bluddflagg." Thrall said. Bluddflagg stared long and hard at the retreating form of Thrall. Maybe he did deserve his rank of warboss.

/

Klaus awoke, on the familiar white field. To be honest, this white field granted him something that he would have never thought. It made him feel calm. Out of all things, it made him feel calm, which was rather disturbing. Truly, this place was hell to him. It was a Korpsmen destiny to die on the battlefield, for the emperor. One more body to add to the altar of war, and more corpses that would be sent back to their unholy masters. Klaus should have died on Mystikos Prime. No, he WISHED he died on Mystikos Prime, at least then he was in service of the emperor. Now he was the slaves of xenos, a puppet, and they were pulling at his strings.

"Do not think of us like that. You mon-keigh enjoy being puppets. You only get mad of who pulls your strings." A voice said, and Klaus sighed. She was back again. He guessed that it was a she, because her voice sounded faintly feminine. He turned to face her, donned as normal, in her wraithbone armor.

"And for good reason. I should have died on that battlefield. I would rather have been the eternal plaything of a daemon, then the servant of a xeno." He snarled.

"And what would be the difference? They are both enemies to your ideology, are they not?"

"That they are. But at least I can be defiant should I be captured by a daemon. When you, however force me to believe that the fate of the galaxy is in my hands, is a different story."  
"Your ignorance never stops amusing me, mon-keigh. However, their are more pressing issues to deal with." The warlock said, ending the conversation.

"Now, listen closely. The most powerful farseer of our craftworlds, Eldrad Ulthran, is sending his granddaughter to aid you. She will protect you, but you must protect her as well. She will be there to accompany you, and to make sure you make the correct moves."

"So I'm being babysitted by orks and eldar? What's next, the tau?"

"If you wish it."

"No! I tire of being with xenos. I follow your wishes, by controlling my thoughts of strangling every living thing here."

"Good. It means that you are slowly, but surely, getting rid of your xenophobic ways."

"How long do I have until the ruinous powers come after me?" Klaus asked suddenly, catching her by surprise.

"You do not have long. Ahzek Ahriman, sorcerer lord of Tzeentch, is trying to get into the webway. Along with him is Typhus, chaos lord of Nurgle. They are planning to attack the webway, and breach the Black Library of Chaos. However, things will not be easy for them. The Daemon Hunters, the Grey Knights, the Ordos Malleus, has been sent to intercept their invasion. We will assist them as best as they can, however, the fleet has caught attention of an ork warlord, and will soon lead a WAAAGH! Against the forces of chaos, eldar, and space marines."

"Why do you trust me with this information?"  
"What does it matter to you?"

"Good point. So who is the Eldar that you send to me? Isn't there no way back?"

"There is, but it is very dangerous. However, she wished to redeem herself in the name of the craftworld, and we have given her the chance."

"What could she have done to possibly risk her life, only to redeem herself?"

"She has been cursed since birth, I'm afraid. She is viewed as an abomination, and I cant say I disagree with them."  
"What does that mean?"

"That is not for me to say, though you may find out."

"Is she a mutant?"

"Yet again, that is not for me to say, though you may find out."

"Now, it is time for me to go." The warlock said, as she slowly started walking away.

"What do I call you, xeno?" Klaus asked, part of him wondering why he would waste more of his breath on the xeno then it deserved. The warlock partially looked at him, one red visor peering at him.

"You may call me The Messenger, Klaus." The Messenger said, before Klaus was flung back into the real world.

Review Time

Neterlan: Whatever man, as long as you enjoy the story, Im happy :)

Tenash: I was wondering where my most valued customer went. But anyways, thats for you to find out.

Guest: Will do :)


	11. Chapter 11: Traveling Banter II

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!

So here is chapter eleven.

Not much to say, so I hope you can enjoy!

In Orgrimmar, it was normally slightly quiet at night. It was surprising, seeing as it was the capital of the orcs, and was so large and expansive, but it was quiet. Well, It was quiet for a short period of time but then two large orcs walked into a tavern. Thirty minutes later, anything in a two hundred foot radius, could not sleep whatsoever, the cheers and cries from the tavern drawing occupants like moths to a flame, to see the massive orcs who only had come in this morning, and already, was making quite the ruckus.

"Dis place be zoggin awesum!" Spookums cackled, slamming his mug of ale onto the table. The orcs cheered, clinking mugs, as they chugged down the alcohol. Of course, it wasn't as great as fungus beer, and not as nearly as explosive, but it was a welcome change. Their new best friends were sitting along with them, kind enough to buy them drinks, as they had gotten their shootas back, which they wore on straps on their back. Mista Nailbrain was relieved that the shootas worked for the orcs. Maybe because Mista Nailbrain thought that it would work.

"Mista Nailbrain, wot be da chant on da krooza?" Spookums laughed, as the orcs turned to the Mekboy. The mekboy smiled, scratching his cybork eye, recalling the chant they had used during plundering.

"Lookin down, da barrel of a gun, Gruntin at each uvver, Frough big sharp teeth, sayin 'dis one'll give us some fuuuun!'" He cackled, slamming his fist into the table with each and every word, the other orcs copying him.

"Fourteen Orks on a humies ship, killin anything that isn't greeen, Gruntin at each uvver!" Spookums shouted, more and more occupants coming over, nearly wasted.

"Frough big sharp teeth sayin 'Times are getting leean!'" Mista Nailbrain answered, practically yelling at this point, as more and more orcs, trolls, and tauren came over, either joining in the chant, or watching from the sidelines, with wild grins on their faces.

"One lone Ork left ta steal da loot, wishin' it hadn't turned out sooo! Frough big sharp teeth sayin 'I shoulda let the pi-lot goooooooo!'" They both yelled simultaneously, slamming the table more and more, until they both roared into the air as loud as their lungs could.

" **WAAAGH!"** They both roared, followed by the crowd. It was so loud that it completely woke up the occupants that passed out, utterly confused of what was happening.

"Da rest of da boyz, Gruntin at each uvver, frough big sharp teef sayin 'I was da un who saw it first!'" They both yelled, cheering, as the bar cheered with them. As one, they all drank the ale, several falling over, knocked unconscious. The two orks laughed merrily, slamming their fists on the table.

"I havent ad dis much fun since I was huntin dat Hoive Tyrant!" Spookums cackled, rubbing the scar on his face.

"Hive Tyrant? What's that?" One of the guests asked, a troll. Spookums looked at him, a savage gleam in his eyes.

"Hoive Tyrant's be dese big nasty buggas, three toimes as tall as me!" Spookums cackled, getting a few awed expressions. Some thought he was stretching in, when Mista Nailbrain joined the fray.

"And dose Hoive Tyrants, boy dey angry! Dey will zog up any ork boy who lay a finga on dem! Eat em up real noice and gud too!" Mista Nailbrain gleamed, giving them a toothy grin, a screw still in his mouth.

"How did you kill it?"

"Me and me Kommandos got it cornered, and its foightin bakk, till all da boyz, cept me of course, be ded! So I take me rokkit launcha, and shoot it roight in da zoggin mouth! Da head sploded loike a headbanga!" Spookums said, bringing out his infamous rokkit launcha. He showed it off, taking one of the rokkits and shaking it, feeling the volatile chemicals inside. Luckily, he didn't fire it, otherwise there wouldn't be a bar left.

"And den da rest of da nids be reel confused, because Spookums zogged up dere boss! Den dey start killin each uvva, cus dey don't who da boss be, and den we burn em to a krisp!" Mista Nailbrain said, and the two orks sputtered out laughing, remembering the savage joy they had at burning the hordes of Hormagaunts and Termagants, as the Warriors tried to take control.

"Course, Ya gotta keep a trophee" Spookums said, taking out the Hive Tyrants horn, which he treasured like a child. It was large, nearly the size of a short sword, gleaming red chitin and bone glowing like ruby.

"What's that?" A guest yelled, followed by roars of approval.

"Dat be da horn of da Hoive Tyrant! Nuffin left of da body doe!" Spookums grinned, shoving it up in the air for all to see. Satisfied, he lowered the massive horn, stowing it back into his bag.

"But dats zoggin nuffin! Let's tell em of how da boss zogged up dat spiky lord!" Mista Nailbrain suggested, and Spookums gave a toothy grin back.

"Dat be an intrestin story. Alright, ya gits! Kum close! Ol Uncle Spookums gotcha a story to tell ye!" He roared, as the guests formed a semicircle, as Spookums began to tell a tale of debauchery, brutal kunnin, and kunnin brutality.

/

The sun slowly crawled back up into the sky, casting down a red and orange glow at the mortals far below. To this, one in particular grumbled, as it awoke. Klaus rubbed his eyes, forgetting that he had his gasmask on. He rose, feeling his stomach grumble. He forgot that he had abandoned his dinner as it started raining, and now his greatcoat was soaked. At least it washed the blood off, and partially dried, but it was still wet. Ketzer did not fare well either, because his body was slightly moist.

"About time you awoke." A voice said, behind him, and Klaus reacted instantly, more than a decade of combat and training taking over. He took out his chainsword, activating it, and swinging it. The chainsword roared, ready to dig in. It was deflected, and was sent flying from his grasp, embedding itself in a tree, and Klaus felt an icy sword held at his neck, the point dangerously close from severing his head off completely..

"Typical. Wake a human up, and he is prepared to fight." The Eldar sneered, lowering her witchblade.

"I was not expecting you to be here so soon, xeno." Klaus snapped, regaining his composure. The Eldar was dressed in the same colors as the warlock, meaning that she was of Ulthwe. Her helmet was off, placed on a nearby rock, and he took a good long look at her face. She had Jet Black hair that was slightly ruffled, several strands sticking out like squiggly towers. She had a fair face, with two brown eyes examining him. However, something felt… wrong with her. She didn't seem to have that air of arrogance that was so strong amongst typical eldar, and she had called him a human… not a mon-keigh…

"And who may you be, xeno?" Klaus asked cautiously, remembering The Messenger's words, of how she was viewed as an abomination. She smiled, and stuck out her hand.

"I am Farseer Lofn, of craftworld Ulthwe." She grinned, and Klaus took a look at her hand, before back at her.

"If you think I will shake your hand, xeno, then you are sorely mistaken." Klaus said monotonously, her happy face breaking for a moment. Then she giggled. Klaus snapped his eyes to her. She was a very weird xeno.

"My father always told me of how you Korpsmen were so stubborn. I can finally agree with him." She chuckled.

"Enough of the formalities xeno. I know why you are here, Puppet Master." He spat, staring at her hard from his gasmask.

"You are here to make sure I don't die, and that I follow your every command. If you think I am a fool, or inferior, then you are sorely mistaken. I will not take orders from a XENO, and you are very lucky that I haven't considered killing you yet, because I wouldn't want a whole craftworld after my head. I do this quest for the emperor, not your foul kind, or anyone else." Klaus growled, ripping his chainsword out of the tree. It collapsed, spooking Ketzer out of his hiding spot. Klaus deactivated his chainsword, shoving it in his sheathe. He then whirled around, glaring Lofn hard in the eyes.

"Are, we, clear?" He said, emphasising every word. To this, she only let out a smirk.

"As I expected." She smiled. Klaus didn't reply, as he leaped onto Ketzer.

"I assume that you need a ride?" He said, trying his very hardest to at least show a shred of decency to the farseer. Hopefully she would last longer than that other xeno. But this time, he knew that he should try hard to protect her. Shalen was one xeno. Very few would care. But Lofn was not only a farseer, but the granddaughter to the most powerful eldar alive. It would be in his best intentions to keep her safe. Klaus suddenly scoffed, watching this unfold in front of him. How far had he fallen out of the light of the emperor already?

"That would be nice." She said, putting her helmet back on, red visors powering up, as Klaus stuck out his hand and she took it, hoisting her up onto Ketzer.

"And I assume you know where to go?" He stated. He already knew the answer, and to this, she nodded.

"Then we move." Klaus said, and shook the reins, urging Ketzer to move.

/

Spookums groaned, rubbing his throbbing head. He opened his eyes, scanning his surroundings. He was startled, to realise that he was no longer in the bar, but in a bedroom.

"Were da zog am I…" Spookums mumbled. By Gork and Mork. Although that ale was not as strong as fungus beer, he forgot simply HOW MUCH he drank. Now he was paying for it, with a hangover. Spookums looked around the room, to realise a few things. One, he was only wearing his tunic and pants. All of his weapons, including his rokkit launcha, speshul shoota, kustom shoota, stikk bombs, burna bombs, smoke bombs, mines, knives, and toothpicks were missing. Spookums rubbed his face with his palm, sweating slightly. Second thing, was that his companion, Mista Nailbrain, or Kaptain Bluddflagg, were nowhere to be seen.

"One ork, going on a misshun unseen." He mumbled, as he got up, and started to explore the room. It was rather nice, a large bed taking most of the room. Cabinets and Drawers filling up the gaps of space. He opened a drawer, and found some clothes. He took a quick look at them, to at least identify who wore them, but he was in no such luck. He looked at the walls, seeing pictures of other orcs. It seemed they had a family, which perplexed Spookums. Orks had no family. The closest thing to family they had were buddies, and that was it. He looked at the picture hard, his red eyes picking up every detail.

"Dis is zoggin weird…" Spookums mumbled, as he walked to the door. So absorbed by his thoughts, his head smashed onto the doorframe, being too small for him. He snarled, his migraine exploding.

"Oo I'm gunna krump whoeva did dis to me." Spookums growled, cracking his knuckles. He carefully creeped through the house he was in, heading to the door. He ducked, lucky not to hit the doorframe this time, his hand going for the knob, when a voice stopped him.

"You're awake! I was starting to think you drank yourself into a coma!" A voice cheerily said. Spookums whipped around in fury, but paused, to see an orc with his bag at her feet.

"Da zog are ya doin wiff me kit?" Spookums growled, snatching his bag, opening it. He went through it, satisfied to see his kit was untouched. Spookums realised that he could use a smoke. He took out a cigar, chomping down. He then took out a lighter, striking it. He took in a deep breath of the foul smoke, and coughed.

"Well, after you made nearly half of the people at the tavern blackout, including your friend, I decided instead of letting you sleep on the dump outside, that you could come with me for the night." She smiled, moving her dreadlocks aside. Spookums frowned, taking in another deep breath of smoke.

"Fanks. Where's Mista Nailbrain?" Spookums asked, casually, his anger subsiding.

"Your friend? Oh he's over at the blacksmith. Listen, I heard all about your stories, and I was wondering…"  
"Yeah?"

"Could I come along?"

Spookums paused, thinking about it for a moment. He didn't know her skills in combat, but she was an orc. Orcs were always good at fighting, no matter what. He let out a savage grin, one that gave her hope.

"Why not? Always could use more gits in da Krew." Spookums shrugged, putting his bag on. She squealed.

"Great! Let me get my stuff!" She said, as she ran away. Spookums took another breath of smoke, and he started to wonder if this was a good idea.

/

"This way. No, this way!" Lofn yelled, as Klaus was literally trying his best not to strike her. For the last few hours, Klaus had been struggling to keep Lofn under control, which was failing. Miserably. She acted like a child, which was incredibly strange for an eldar. Adding on top of the fact, that she lacked the musk of arrogance which her species so proudly wore like perfume, and the fact that she refused to acknowledge him as inferior. She had taken off her helmet awhile go, why she did, he didn't know.

"I am trying, xeno." Klaus said, controlling his anger, leading Ketzer to the direction she pointed to.

"No need to call me that. We are equals here." She said, but squeaked, when Klaus snapped his head around as far as it could.

"We are no equals, xeno. You are xeno, non human, and therefore, I am above you. Know that if we were anywhere except in this cursed realm, where every move I make is monitored by thousands of filthy, disgusting, vile, arrogant xenos, You would have been dead along time ago." Klaus snapped, looking away. Klaus was insulted that the xeno even considered them equals. A pathetic, and foolish notion. One more thing that made this eldar so… strange.

"I'm not even fully eldar…" She mumbled under her breath, thinking that he couldn't hear her. His mind was suddenly flooded with questions. Not fully eldar? Did this mean that she was a clone? A mutant? A hybrid? If a hybrid, of what? Of human? Is that what the messenger meant when she said that Lofn was considered an abomination? Klaus took a quick look at her, as she was trying to keep herself calm. Now that he considered it, she didn't really have the looks of an eldar. Eldar were normally well disciplined, prepared for every situation. They were also arrogant as fuck, but still. It all made sense now. She was considered an abomination, because she possibly could be a hybrid of human and eldar genetics. That made some sense, after all. He viewed her as an abomination before, but it was even worse now. He wondered who her father, or mother was, so he could personally burn them at the stake. In addition, she didn't act like an eldar, or talk like one either. Although she had the melodic, song like accent like all eldar, it wasn't as powerful. She didn't regard him as inferior, and instead, as equals. It all made sense now. She considered herself equal, because she may be part human.

"You know I can read your mind, right?" She said suddenly, and Klaus shook himself out of his trance of thinking.

"Unfortunately, I am aware. However, I suggest you do not stray too far, or even try. I loathe those who would try. And Since we will be stuck together until this mission of ours is over…" He said, looking at her, and underneath, he smiled.

"We wouldn't want to get on the wrong foot, right?"

"I guess so, but I may already answer your questions now, and get it over with. Yes, I am a hybrid, between Eldar and Human. And yes, I get ridiculed for it." She said, blushing slightly. Klaus grinned wolfishly on the inside. Good. She deserved it.

"I would love to hear the story to that..." He said, focusing his attention on guiding Ketzer through the grass and weeds.

"It's a long story." She started.

"It's a long trip." Klaus finished. Boy, he could smell the dejavu.

"Well, to keep it short, my father, LIIVI, a vindicare assassin wa-"

"Vindicare… Vindicare assassin?" Klaus chuckled, laughing more and more and more, until he could barely clutch his sides, his gasmask altering his laughter. Lofn was fuming at the insult.

"Excuse me, farseer. You said, Vindicare Assassin, right? Oh by the emperor! I never thought it was possible, but you made me laugh." He chuckled

"Yes, he's a vindicare assassin, crazy I know, shoot me!" She cried, but at this, he stopped laughing.  
"Dont tempt me." Klaus said, becoming very serious.

"Well anyways, he was sent to kill my mother, Taldeer, after the eldar had been driven off the world. He couldn't bring himself too, and through a bunch of dangers and obstacles, they escaped. Then they had me." She said, wrapping it up rather quickly. Klaus merely guffawed, slapping his knee, as she blushed in anger once more.

"Well what's your story huh, asshole?" She snapped, and he looked at her.

"Simple. Like all Korpsmen, we are clones. We come from Vitae wombs, basically machines that rapidly develop embryos to keep ahead of the casualties. We are given our identification number, and a name if we deserve it. When we are young, we are driven insane, driving all emotions out of us, and then trained to be a cold, merciless killer. We are then sent onto the battlefield, and are expected to die, but take a few of the enemy with us. The only thing we value more than dying on the field of battle are killing heretics. If you survive long enough, you become Grenadiers, which means that you are more skillful or lucky then other rank and file soldiers. Grenadiers are then put on harder and more dangerous missions, because we haven't died yet. If you survive, then you become a regular guardsmen again. It is a cycle, until we die for the emperor. It is simple, is it not?" Klaus said, looking at her. She merely had a small frown. Klaus was disappointed on the inside. He had hoped for more of a reaction.

"You went the wrong way again." She said, a small smirk on her face. By the emperor, did he want to make it better, by slamming his fist in it.

"LOFN! DAMN YOU AND YOUR DISTRACTING, YET HUMEROUS CONCEPTION TALE!"

Review Time

Aburg: Thanks, I appreciate that some people enjoy it :)

Guest: Im not too sure what you mean... 


	12. Chapter 12: Hard at Work

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!

Anyways, Im back, so here is a chapter!

Im rather surprised by the amount of support I got while I was away.

So anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Bluddflagg sat with part of his krew, as Thrall gave them the debriefing. It was rather long, and rather boring. He even threw in part of the hordes history, and their relations to the other native species of azeroth. While Mista Nailbrain was listening intently, Spookums was taking in deep breaths with his fungus cigar, Bluddflagg was bored out of his mind. In Bluddflagg's ears, he only heard "Quilboars attacked convoy", "Number's in hundred, maximum." and "Show no mercy."

"Dat shuld be zoggin easy." Bluddflagg cackled, followed by the rest of his krew. One other ork joined him today, recruited by Spookums. Bluddflagg was more then happy. Most of his krew died when his kill krooza got zogged up by the Inquisition. He didn't expect them, but at the same time, no one expects the Inquisition. He had great fun in killing them though. His krew now numbered at four. Mista Nailbrain, with all of the gold he had been given, and admittedly stole, was in the Blacksmith all morning, building shootas, choppas, and more things.

"Alright then. I'll remind you once again. A quilboar raiding party has been a thorn in our sides for quite awhile, but we lack the resources to chase after them. Therefore, you and your… krew… as you like to call them, will hunt after them. They seem to hide out in the canyons on the mainroad. Quilboars are ferocious, and tenacious bastards. You'll drag them out of hiding simply by being there." Thrall chuckled, looking Bluddflagg in the eye.

"Don't return until you have the shaman's head. You'll find out what he looks like." He grinned. Bluddflagg remained impassive, but his remaining eye peaked slightly.

"De're boss be a weird un?" Bluddflagg said, very cautious. Weird Ones were very dangerous in his eyes, and it suited him to kill them quickly.

"Is that how you say shaman?" Thrall asked. To this Bluddflagg nearly sighed. What else could have he meant?

"Fink so." He said, his anger slowly seeping his voice. Thrall noticed this quickly, and gave him a good hard look, before he shook his head of a thought he would rather not voice.  
"Then yes, he is a weird one. He will be the leader, and he will be using spells to slow you down, and to heal his comrades. But he will be no slouch in combat. None will." Thrall said, clearing things up.

"Heh. I wanna see em try." Bluddflagg laughed evilly, spit flying out of his iron gob.

"Your bravado suits you. I would love to hear the tales of your… work." Thrall said, giving a faint smile.

"Dese pig boys be dead wen we kum back, and just incase, we'ze bee bringin all of dere eds." Bluddflagg said, turning away, as his krew walked away. Thrall watched the retreating form of Bluddflagg, and simply wondered what he would look like in combat. However, he shook that out of his head, as a messenger came running in, stopping and taking a long look at Bluddflagg, who merely cuffed him on the head, which sent the messenger reeling. Thrall sighed, as the messenger came to him, rubbing his throbbing forehead.

"Warchief. Dire news... It is the scourge."

/

Lofn smiled, as they passed over the mountains, reaching the grassy plains below. They had made with extreme haste, partly of her psyker powers, which helped speed their travel greatly. In addition, a fort was nearby that they could visit to resupply, and restock. Klaus, on the other hand, was having a moral dilemma, and she could see this, even through his skull faced gasmask. On one hand, he was considering thanking her, because she had saved him days of travel, but on the same time, the fact that she was an alien, and giving thanks to an alien scared him to the core, he wasn't sure how to proceed. She sighed, her hands on his shoulders. Since she put her hands on his shoulder, He had tried everything in the book that he had to get them off, rather than actually beating her, which she could see he was struggling not to do it. Intimidation, Insults, and even a bit of pleading, but in the end, he gave up. Her grandfather, Eldrad Ulthran, had told her to toy with him, make him slowly forget his extreme xenophobia. He never told her why to do it, only to do it, but she knew on the inside. Because he was a dick. He did very little to hide this fact.

"Xeno, It is about time we make camp. We will not reach the fort without tiring ourselves." Klaus suggested, as they came upon the plains.

"Agreed. We shall head there first thing tomorrow." She said simply, as they slowed down, coming upon a small barren patch of dirt. Klaus leaped off of Klaus and dug his knife into the ground, tying the horses leash to the knife's handle. Lofn got off, running her hand down its snout. It snorted, moving away from her.

"See? Even Ketzer dislikes your presence." Klaus said. Smug bastard, she thought to herself.

"You know, you don't have to act so cynical anymore. It's not like there are any Imperial Lackeys to punish you for acting out of line." She said, and to this, he only looked at her. She fumed on the inside. Talking to a Guardsman was hard. Talking to a Korpsman was nearly impossible.  
"It is not acting. It is merely how I am." Klaus said simply, opening his journal, taking a quick look through it, before closing it. Her interest peaked at this, taking a quick look at it. Perhaps she would read it when he wasn't looking.

"Yeah well it's going to get real tiring, so I suggest you stop." Lofn explained to him. Klaus glanced at her, and underneath his mask, she could tell he was confused.

"You are interesting, Lofn. Although you admit to be hybrid, and therefore, an abomination on two fronts, you still interest me, heretical as it is." He said, Lofn's face flushing with anger. Abomination. She hated that word. Despised it. But Klaus kept going, as if unaware of her feelings.

"You look like eldar, yet you act vastly different from one. You share some human qualities, disgusting as it is." Klaus finished, pulling sticks out of his bag, carefully setting them together.

"And you're a real asshole, you know that?" She snapped at him, and he merely shrugged.

"I have been called that, though the meaning is still lost on me." He said, pulling out his lasgun, and firing at the woodpile, setting a fire instantly. Lofn chuckled at the thought of how many insults she threw at him, and that he barely understood any of them. Klaus looked Lofn in the eye quickly, before sitting down on the dirt.

"I do not find what is so comical about my statement." Klaus said, watching as the fire slowly grew in the pile.

"It's nothing." Lofn said, sitting down next to him. Klaus slightly moved away from her, trying to keep his composure, trying to keep his cool. He would be denied. Lofn smiled, putting her arm over his shoulder, and around his neck. He flinched, looking at her arm.

"Xeno, let go of me." He said calmly, trying to control his anger and disgust, moving her arm away. Lofn ignored him, and put it back on, and he sighed, this time not trying to control his anger. It was more like a growl then a sigh, and he gave her a cold glance.

"You are lucky I cannot deal with you the way I would like to. Otherwise…" He said, intentionally leaving his sentence unfinished. She groaned. This was going to be hard.

"So are we going to sleep on the ground?" She asked, Klaus looked at her once more.

"I assume you don't want to?" He asked, and she nodded.

"Very well." He said, as she moved her arm away, much to his relief, as he whispered a quick prayer of forgiveness, as he opened a satchel, taking out a long roll of cloth. He set it onto the ground, and she sat down on it, wiping her robes of dust.

"Why don't you have armor on your back?" She asked suddenly, trying to strike up a conversation.

"Pardon?" Klaus said, clearly taken surprise by her question.  
"You have armor on your shoulders, chest, and knees, but no armor on your back whatsoever. Why's that?" She said. Klaus instinctively put his hand on his back, feeling his black greatcoat. He looked at her once more, his gold tinted lenses looking at her.  
"Because it is unnecessary." He said, trying to end the conversation swiftly. It wouldn't work on her.  
"Care to explain?" She asked, intent on finding out.

"Grenadiers do not need armor on the back, because they always die facing the enemy." He stated, like it was a fact. She groaned. She barely knew him, and he already showed plenty of characteristics. Bone headed was one of them, and least she thought.

"Well what if someone attacked from behind?" She countered.  
"Irrelevant." He said calmly back.

"Your direction of thinking is comical, to say the least, Klaus." She smiled smugly, but it was wiped away with his reply.

"And your attempts to humor me, or try to get rid of my ways, are comical, to say the least, abomination." He said back. Something within Lofn snapped.

"Stop using that word! Xeno, Abomination, just stop!" She said, flustered.

"And why should I?" He asked calmly.

Lofn was about to yell at him why, but she could not think of an answer why. She was seething, not only at Klaus, but at the fact that she could not give a legitimate answer.

"Exactly. Although you would love for me to stop calling you those things, you have no explanation of why. Is it considered rude, to call you what you are?"

"But you just use so harsh terms! We are both here to redeem ourselves! You to redeem yourself in the eyes of the emperor, and me to redeem myself for the craftworld! We are equal, no matter what you put it at." She screamed at him. He slowly took off his helmet and gasmask, and looked at her. His icy blue eyes looked at every feature of her face, his black and grey hair ruffled from being underneath that helmet for so long.

"Give me one good reason, of how we are equal." He said simply. Lofn could not control her rage any longer, so she did something she never thought she would do. She slapped him. She didn't put too much strength in it, but at the same time, she felt scared for doing it. Klaus still stared at her with that same look on his face, a small red mark fading from where she hit him. Klaus then gave a small faint smile. He chuckled lightly, as he looked back into the fire.

"Know this, Lofn. I will not forget this moment." He said, putting his helmet and gasmask back on.

/

Typhus stepped onto the dead planet, his pus encrusted boots touching the soft soil. He took a deep breath and sighed, practically tasting the foul stench of the chemicals The Purge had used to wipe out all life on the planet, nearly four billion civilians. Now they were long gone, but their work remained the same. Beautiful.

"It is… a wonderful smell… don't you agree brothers?" Typhus wheezed, clicking his manreaper on the ground. The Plague Marines stalked out of the dropships, examining the piles of sludge and corpses that littered the capital.

"Yes Typhus, it is wonderful. However, our intrusion has not gone unnoticed. We must find the Webway gate, before the corpse emperors lackeys come for us." Ahriman said, teleporting a few yards away from him. Typhus turned to him and merely sighed.

"Very… well... " Typhus said, waving the Plague Marines forward, as they followed Ahriman and his Prodigal Sons.

"How… do you know… where the webway… gates are?" Typhus asked noisily. Ahriman looked at him, and let out a chuckle.

"The quest for knowledge is not a timely one. It is rather easy to find the gates once you know what it looks like. Of course, they are camouflaged, but that will not stop me in the slightest. Men! Secure the capital! Plague Marines, join the Prodigal Sons in protecting the city! Typhus, with me." Ahriman ordered. The chaos space marines departed at once, moving past the barren fields, heading to the capital in the distance.

"Very well…" Typhus said, as the two champions of chaos started to walk away. Little did they know, two gods of green were laughing as their children came in the millions, ready to kick the asses of spiky boyz, space marines, and pointy eared twats.

/

Mista Nailbrain slipped on his goggles, and started banging on the steel with a hammer. Sadly, on this strange new world, he couldn't simply loot and scrap weapons, so he had to make them from scratch. This wasn't a bad thing though, as it gave him more options of creativity.

"Now wot shuld we do wiff ya?" He said aloud, a grin splitting his face, a wide variety of options coming in through his rather primitive mind. While the rest of the ork's barely knew how to hold a weapon the right way. It was only with Meks and Big Meks who really were the smartest of the green tide. Mista Nailbrain sighed, his happiness and enthusiasm slowly going away. As far as he knew, there were no other Meks were on the planet with him. There were the blacksmiths, but they crafted finely forged blades, axes, and maces. A few even watched him with full eagerness, as he smited the glowing hot steel, his tools set on on the table near by. He suddenly had an idea. Like promethium to unprotected flesh, it enveloped his brain, and it was the only thing he could think of. He dug through his tool kit, moving spanners, wrenches, nails, rivets, rivet guns, arcs, bolts, screws, and more, until he found what he was looking for. He smiled, as he took out what he was looking for. Power cells barked back at him, spitting out yellow bolts of energy. He shivered, feeling the bolts of electricity and energy poke at his skin. This would be a fine tool, he decided, as he started working on his new creation with unparalleled speed. Each raise of his hammer followed by several pairs of eyes, each smash followed by morbid fascination, each cackle followed by a slight cringe. Hours passed, as a shape began to form. A small rack began to form, three prongs sticking out. Three metal orbs were welded haphazardly to the rods, power coils running between the prongs and snaking into the orbs, conducting the dangerous and rather explodey energy, that ran like lightning bolts along the prongs. Mista Nailbrain smiled, as he finished the force field. He turned around, realizing that a small crowd of artisans, shamans, blacksmiths, and others, looking in awe at his invention. His smile turned into a toothy grin, as he saw Spookums in the crowd.

"Dammit Nailbrain! Da zog are ya doin?" He roared, as the crowd parted. Mista Nailbrain merely cackled, playing with the trigger of the bouncy shield.

"Doin sum wurk." He cackled. Spookums looked at the force fields prongs, which spat violent sparks of energy.

"I dun care fur dat, doe it dus look pretty noice. Da Kaptain is waitin for us." Spookums said, waving Mista Nailbrain away from the murmuring crowd.

Review Time.

Guest: Really? I always thought there was more, but I hope you like it, and enjoy!

Rc48177: Cuz da boys want da bidds, so zog off!

SpecH82: Thank you for your criticism. Its a rare gem to actually get some good feedback.


	13. Chapter 13: Eternal Guardian

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!

So I might apologize by how much I used bold words in this chapter.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

The cold lands of Northrend were once an abandoned, desolate place. The only things that lived there were the local fauna, and the spidermen, known to scholars as Nerubians. The Nerubians were a proud, if not equally evil race. However, that all changed when the Lich King came. The Lich King fought against the Nerubians, their once thriving populace crippled by thousands of the living dead. Those that were not killed fled, and those that had died were raised by Ner'zhul. The Lich King. A vile curse upon the living, and arguably, one of the sole causes of the third great war. The Lich King had eyes everywhere. Literally. As tens of thousands of his undead warriors marched at his command, he could see everything, hear everything. Each Zombie, Ghoul, Skeleton, Abomination, Crypt Fiends, and more, were like candles in his mind. With each enemy slain, another candle soon would light up in his mind, testament to the many Necromancers that had pledged himself to his Iron Will. Each time a servant of his died, a candle fluttered, before it extinguished. The Lich King was eager to wage war on the living once more. His blade told him that. Frostmourne. Frostmourne was the sole reason that the once young, handsome, intelligent, and most importantly, sane, Arthas Menethil was corrupted by the blade, and eventually, killed by it. Frostmourne told him to forget about this. Frostmourne hungers indeed, for the souls of the living, and the warm ichor that would follow rather quickly. Frostmourne hungered for Death. The Lich King scoffed at this, an unholy sound that would be best not to be heard came from his helm. Death was as inevitable as the sun. The purity of the undead though, cheated death. Death was a concept The Lich King was aware of. He was aware that his servants, that now marched to the kingdoms of both the horde and alliance, would cause death. He didn't mind. The Lich King abandoned his thoughts. He had other things to do.

" **Your move**." He taunted, his spectral voice bouncing through the icy walls of his mighty castle, bastion of the scourge.

" **Very well."** An ancient voice said back. The Lich King smiled on the inside. The sworn enemy of the scourge would make its move. He would love to duel this being, but sadly, he could not. It had lost its real name a long time ago, like the Lich King. The being was a figure of immense power, that radiated such holy power in its voice, that it made even grown men weep in joy, it made even the most unholy creatures have pause, and it made even the most bone headed, and unfaithful convert. Lesser men and creatures called this being The Light. A cosmic force that seeked virtue and perfection in others. They said that The Light wasn't a god. It was true. The Light wasn't a god. But it might as well be considered one. However, the Lich King knew better. It wasn't any light, and certainly did not consider itself holy. As a matter of fact, the being was flawed in many ways, but it accepted this, for none could be perfect. The being had many names, but only the Lich King knew its name, the name that it loathed, but accepted. It was called The God Emperor.

/

Klaus awoke, but was rather surprised where he was. He wasn't on the white field he had gotten so used to. Instead, he was on the top of a mountain peak, the sky the color of gold.

"What foul magic trick is this, eldar? Lofn! If this is your doing, I will beat you to a pulp!" He snarled, looking around. Only then did he realize that he was in his battle gear.

" **You shall find no Eldar tricks here."** A foreboding voice told him. Klaus merely sneered. He would not be so easily fooled.

"Lies! How dare you foul xenos try to trick me? Show yourself, you sniveling cowards!" He spat, looking around, his hands locked into fists.

" **Very well then."** It said, as a being started to appear in front of him, flickering into existence, embers flying from its body. Adrenaline flowed through Klaus's body, ironic that this was a dream, or a vision, but he cared little. He was prepared to fight. Then, a powerful explosion knocked him off of his feet. Klaus found that his lungs had been completely knocked out of air, and he took greedy breathes, metallic air going through his nose. He looked at the figure. Until the day Klaus died, he would never forget this beautiful sight. A massive figure in golden armor stared at him, a fluttering red cape, made from the finest materials known tied to his neck. A halo of golden light hovered over his head, black hair floating down his frame. His scarred, yet beautiful face looked at him, one hand holding a large clawed gauntlet, the other holding a flaming sword. Klaus instantly went to his knees, muttering prayers. His lenses began to fog up, as he was crying tears of joy.

" **There is no need for this,** **Grenadier 652733-172948 'Klaus'. Time is of the utmost Importance."** The God Emperor of Mankind said, a faint smile forming on his face.

"But my liege! My lord! Have you not been on the golden throne for the past ten millennia?" Klaus said, in utter disbelief, but in pure joy. He had long lived to serve the emperor. Now he could finally see him, in all of his glory. The Ecclesiarchy did justice in describing the god emperor. The Emperor laughed, his words filled with sweetness and honey.

" **I am. However, it takes very little power to change one's appearance in a vision. Now, listen, and obey. The foul heathens of chaos come for you. That much is clear to you. Your quest is a noble one, and I only wish it could have been done sooner."** He said, and at this, Klaus's brain started working in overdrive, driving back the zealous faith, for logic and reason to take the reigns once more.

"You knew of this realm, my faithful emperor? How?" He asked. The emperor sighed, his eyes slightly hardening.

" **Yes, I knew of this realm. However, before I could fully investigate it, my sons betrayed me. I have long kept it a secret, but now that the eldar have found a way in, I can contain it no longer."** He replied, calmly.

"What would you have me do, my master?" Klaus said, keeping his eyes glued onto the floor. He was not worthy of looking at such a holy figure.

" **Your quest stays the same. You will destroy the relic of chaos, and then the Lich King. However, be aware. His undead armies march on to besiege the kingdoms of mortals once more. They are on the breaking point of waging war on each other once more. You must keep the two factions from splitting, and fighting, lest it have even further consequences in our already faltering empire."** The emperor instructed him.

" **You will never see home again, Klaus. You will be the guardian of this realm. You will protect it from harm."** The emperor finished. Klaus sighed inwardly. Although he would never question the emperor

"And what of the foul eldar, my emperor? Must I slay them in your name?" Klaus asked, very eager to hear his answer. However, the answer Klaus had in mind was not to happen, much to his disappointment.

" **No. You shall not. Crafty the eldar may be, but even they realize when they must put aside their arrogance and cunning, in order to gain a goal shared by many. To be rid of the minions of chaos. However, do not expect Imperial Reinforcements. If they find out about this realm, they will pillage and burn this realm, causing destruction that cannot be told. I will prevent them from entering this realm. Although you may not like it, you will be stuck with your… companion. "** He stated, humor seeping into his voice at the mention of Lofn. Klaus nodded, disappointment gnawing on his bones. The emperor could see through his cold mask, and smiled.

" **Cheer up lad. You will do fine work. I shall trouble you no longer. However, do a favor for me."** The emperor said. Klaus slowly looked up to him, to see that he held a toothy grin.

"And what would this be, my lord?" Klaus asked, rather cautiously.

" **Far away, near Astranaar, is an ancient tomb. A… servant awaits your arrival. He has long waited for a fellow Imperial Citizen to come. Go to him. He will serve you well. Now go. Good luck, Klaus."** The Emperor said, before Klaus slipped out of the glorious vision.

/

Spookums looked at the newest member of the krew, Zentar Bonesong, with suspicion. Said orc was hefting an axe and a spiked shield, carrying it, struggling to keep pace with the other orks. Bluddflagg said that Zentar was one of those 'female' orcs. He had warned him that they were "Krafty lil buggas. Watch ya wallet and ya pants, Spookums." However, Spookums was rather impressed by this statement. Spookums had been a Kommando for many years, and he had respect for orks who were kunning. Infact, he even respected other species who were kunnin like him. He loved stalking quarry who put up a challenge, like scout sergeants of space marines, or rangers of the eldar. His thoughts were stopped abruptly, when Bluddflagg stopped them. It was the dead of night, and while Zentar said that they should go at the morning, Spookums retorted, saying that it would be easier to sneak up on them. Mork says! The trip to the camp was rather easy. Spookums found it insulting of how easy it was to track the pig boys back to their camp, but yet again, it would be hard to mask an army of around a hundred.

"Alright ya gits. Da Pigboy kamp is a bit ahead." He said, pointing to the direction of the fire, some fifty yards away, where they could see the outlines of the spiky pigboys doing things in the distance.

"Dis be da kunny plan. Spookums, ya sneek around da kamp, and get redy to frow stikkbombs on me mark." He said to Spookums. He nodded, taking out his Assasshuns Knife. The poisoned blade dripped onto the ground, leaving bright green stains on the soil. In his other hand, he had his looted bolt pistol. Once a master crafted bolt pistol belonging to a sergeant of the Blood Ravens, it had since fallen in his hands. Bluddflagg then looked at Mista Nailbrain, who hefted his Big Shoota, named Dakka Dakka Dakka. The name was rather obvious.

"Mista Nailbrain. Use ya telyporta, and da bouncy shield, and disrupt da gits." He commanded. Mista Nailbrain grinned, eager to test out his latest creation, which was flicking bright bolts of energy. Bluddflagg then glared at Zentar, and to her credit, did not falter when the massive warboss shifted his entire weight to face her, his red eye peering down on her.

"Zentar, ya proove ya worf dis day. Afta Mista Nailbrain uses his telyporta and Spookums frows da stikkbombs, yooze wiff me. Gotcha?" He asked. Zentar nodded furiously. She softly clashed her axe and shield together, moving her spiked helmet in a nodding motion.

"For the Horde!" She grinned wolfishly, bloodlust singing in her voice. Bluddflagg cackled, lightly clapping her on the back, which nearly sent her reeling. Bluddflagg looked at Spookums, and grinned.

"I fink ya picked da right orc for da job. Spookums, ya gotta give us da signal, and den we charge. Gotcha?" Bluddflagg said, turning to him. Spookums grinned.

"Ya'll know wot da signal be." Spookums said, taking out a stikkbomb, waving it around. Bluddflagg grinned evilly. While Bluddflagg was smart, but no ork could resist a few things. Dakka, Killin, Speed, and 'splosions

"Den lets get ta killin." Bluddflagg said, waving his krew into position, while Spookums headed into the underbrush, his knife begging for blood. Who was he to resist?

/

Lofn stirred from her sleep, fixing her hair, which was now ruffled from tossing and turning on the floor. It had been a while since she could sleep so calmly like that. Even on the craftworld, life was never guaranteed, as the foul dogs of chaos could strike at any time. Before she came lost on the path of the seer, she knew that all eldar, and most importantly, the seers, must control their emotions, lest they become prey to she who thirsts. However, the warp in this realm was weak. Very weak. But weak did not mean non existent, and so Lofn did not have to put too much strain in controlling her emotions. Even though she was a hybrid of human and eldar genetics, she still felt emotions strongly, although not as strongly as fellow eldar. Speaking of humans, where was the one she was supposed to protect? She rose up, looking around the plain. But he was nowhere to be seen! Damn! What about his horse? No, Ketzer was still here, and he was nibbling at the grass pastures. Lofn rubbed her head, accidentally ruffling her hair once again, strands sticking out. She mumbled to herself, stretching her tight muscles. Her robes were ruffled again, and she smoothed them out, before reaching into a small bag, taking out several runes. They were runes of fate, and as she looked at them, several runes glowed brightly, glowing bright shades of red. She frowned at this, stashing the runes away. Something bad was going to happen, but when, she was not sure. The warp in this place was fickle and weak. She could not rely on her fortune telling abilities, the common ability of many a farseer.

"Greetings, xeno." A familiar voice said, and Lofn sighed in relief, turning around. She paused, realising that he was dragging a corpse with him, a lasgun in one hand, the hoof of a pig in the other.

"Why, Klaus? We could have just went to the fort and buy things there!" She exclaimed. She didn't like killing animals, as back on the craftworld, they had a strictly vegetarian diet. He shrugged, dragging the dead pig towards the fire pit.

"Possible, but unlikely. Regardless, it is to be on the safe side." He said, before he dropped the corpse, taking out his combat knife, the mono molecular blade ready to dig into its flesh.

"Would you like some?" He asked, as he prepared to skin and carve into the corpse. Lofn held up a hand, showing her disgust.

"No thanks. I'm… I'm fine."

"Very well xeno. If you would wish not to eat, then that is fine. More's the pity if you didn't starve." He said, possibly saying his thoughts aloud before he started carving into the meat, ripping out bloody chunks. Lofn mumbled under her breath. She barely had ever met other humans rather than her father. They were rude from time to time, but at least they could have, rarely, a pleasant conversation. With Klaus though, it was a whole different story.

"Xeno, do me a favor and rekindle the fire." He commanded. Lofn, for her part only winced slightly at the sudden harshness in his voice, but nodded. She went to his bag, taking out bundles of sticks, before she paused. Next to several logs, was his journal. She couldn't sate her thirst for curiosity, and when she was sure that he wasn't looking, she snatched the journal, stuffing it in her robes, before taking the logs, and carefully setting up the fire. She gave Klaus a long stick, which he quickly sharpened, before spearing chunks of meat he deemed worthy of cooking. She winced, as blood ran down his gloves, dripping onto the floor. Clearly he noticed this, because he grumbled something underneath his breath.

"I can hear you." She suddenly blurted out. Klaus looked at her, putting the meat on a spit.

"I am aware. You share many traits with an eldar, abomination. I wonder at the marvel that you are even alive." He replied. It took all of her willpower to bite back an insult. She knew it was true, as well. It was a sheer miracle that she was even alive. She did not try to hide the fact.

"Where'd you even get it from?" She asked suddenly. He paused, as if thinking for an answer.

"I came across a trading caravan. Some farmers and peasants heading to a place called Shady Rest. One of the farmers had a pig that was of little worth to him, so I purchased it." Klaus explained smoothly. Lofn looked at the pile, and shot out a psychic bolt of energy at the kindling. This made Klaus twitch, as he put the spit on the rack.

"Next time, warn me when you use your foul psychic powers." Klaus said, as he sat down on the ground once again, his gold tinted lenses staring at his breakfast. Lofn glanced at the dead pig, that was slowly making a puddle of blood around its corpse.

"What are you going to do with the corpse? And where did you go, from before?" She asked, intent on knowing why. Klaus merely shrugged.

"It is of no longer use to me. When I finish my meal, I shall burn it then." He declared.

"Fine. But I hope that we can leave already…" She mumbled.

"Have patience, xeno. Surely, your eldar 'brethren' have at least taught you some restraint?" Klaus asked. Lofn paused at the way he said brethren. She swore under her breath, knowing that his ears weren't strong enough to hear what she said. She was a very calm person, and she had many friends, and few enemies. However, Klaus was possibly the most rudest person she had worked with. _I can only imagine how hard it would be to talk to a more zealous Korpsman…_ She thought dryly.

Review Time

Datguyoverdere 1: I am planning on having romance, but of course, in good old fashioned Krieg style. Completely fucking oblivious of it.

Datguyoverdere 2: Shower up boy. Personal Hygiene comes infront of pleasure.

Commisar Carl: You will find the answer in chapter four.

Neterian: Thanks, and no. Mista Nailbrain was not making a Shokk Attakk Gun. I doubt that he has the parts to make one, and the strength to handle it. Only Big Meks can handle the recoil of such a weapon.

Rc48177: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!

Panzer Hunter: Thank you very much! I shall keep going!


	14. Chapter 14: Bloodlust

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!

Not much to say today, so anyways, I hope you can enjoy!

Kommandos were viewed as outcasts of ork kultur. While most orks would blindly charge the enemy, shoota barking, choppa swingin. Kommandos, the favored of Mork (Or Gork, depends on who you ask.) were the ones who would sneak around, and stab them in the back. As so, orks were very careful around Kommandos. To some, it was a phase, like being a Stormboy. However, some orks became so addicted to the sneakiness of being a Kommando, they grew up into Nobs. Kommandos, outcasts they were, were indispensable. They proved to be valuable in nearly every situation, as most did not suspect orks to be so… sneaky.

Such was the case, as Spookums crawled in the dirt, his black faicepaint doing wonders to camouflage himself, along with his green skin. He peeked through the bushes, moving the leaves away very carefully. There he saw the Pig Boys, gathered around a fire. Some were sleeping, while others were cleaning their weapons of blood. Racks of maces, swords, spears, and bows were lined up along a wall. Spookums found it pitiful of their lack of intelligence, of how he had not been seen yet. He peered long and hard at the opposite side of the camp, a small bolt of electricity alerting him to Mista Nailbrains presence. He carefully reached into his satchel, taking out a variety of Stikkbombs. He ignored Burna Bombs, Smoke Bombs, Stun Bombs, and Krak Bombs, reaching for his Frag Bombs.

"Now, were do we frow dem…" He whispered to himself, looking over targets. The weapon rack was rather an easy target, so that would be first. Then, he shrugged.

"Zog it. Frow em." He said, taking out half a score of stikkbombs, and pulled the pins off each and every single one of them, with one flourish of his finger. The pins clattered to the ground.

"'ERE I AM YA DUMB GROTS!" Spookums cackled, as he threw the stikkbombs. The Pig Boys glanced at him, confused, before the stikkbombs detonated. Pig Boys screamed, as the Stikkbombs ripped into them, red hot shrapnel ripping into their tough hides. Spookums ran out of the bushes, ramming his knife in a Pig Boy. It squealed, as the large 'knife' was shoved into its belly, the deadly poisons contaminating its blood vessels. Like it mattered, anyway. The Pig Boys roared threats in their tongue, as they charged at him, raising knifes and maces. Spookums cackled, firing the bolt pistol. His aim was true, somehow. Three pigboys were flung away, gore flooding out of the fist sized holes, three shells falling down to the ground.

"Mista Nailbrain ya dum git! Do ya fing!" He roared, parrying a sword, before cleaving off a arm with his knife, before he clobbered it with his slugga. Bolts of energy slammed into the ground, revealing Mista Nailbrain.

"Die!" He cackled, as the bouncy shield powered to life. The Pig Boys charged him blindly, and as one, five of them swung their maces down on him. The Bouncy Shield earned its name. The Maces were flung back so violently, Pig Boy hands came with them. They squealed, and in return, Mista Nailbrain cackled. He fired the Dakka Dakka Dakka, yelling its name ceremoniously. The Pig Boys shook and shuttered, bullets ripping into their flimsy leather armor and tough hides, blood spewing out, as limbs were torn apart. Spookums shook himself out of it, as a mace slammed into his face, and sent him reeling back. He looked at the offender and grinned, spitting out a bloody tooth. He charged, swinging his knife wildly. The Pig Boy ducked, swinging his mace again, hitting his side. This hurt very little, and Spookums swung his slugga, smashing it on its head. Its snout disappeared in a wash of blood, one of its tusks broken apart. It collapsed to the ground, and Spookums sheathed his knife, and bolt pistol, taking out his Speshul Shoota. He fired again and again, each shot sending a Pig Boy reeling, a mass of shrapnel puncturing their chests.

"Toime for sum splosions!" He cackled, as he loaded in a splodey shell. He hadn't had a proper fight in a long time. But yet again, these Pig Boys didn't put up too much of a challenge. Might as well not try to strain himself.

/

Orcs were a warlike race. Their was very little to deny this, even after the drinking of Mannoroth's blood. Many a orc wished for the glory days of the first and second great war, when they only fought humans, not the dead, nor demons. Orcs respected those who fought well. Bloodshed was like an art. Each corpse showed different strokes of finesse, like artwork of a painter.

Zentar shivered in uncontrolled admiration, at the sight of these orcs fighting in combat. They killed with savage glee and joy, each corpse more eviscerated than the other. They shrugged off wounds that would have been fatal to others, and added to the fact that they seemed to be honorable. Above all, orcs had great respect for honorable warriors. These thoughts lingered in her mind, threatening to take over her brain. She chided herself, as she ducked underneath a clumsy blow from a Quilboar, who was missing an arm at the shoulder. She let out a battle cry, as she swung her ax upwards, smashing into its ribs. It let out a death rattle as it collapsed to the ground. She yanked her ax out, as she parried another blow, before smashing her shield into its face. It howled, as it covered its face, she dug her ax into its neck. It fell to the ground, dead.

"Kum on ya git! Yooze killin too slow!" The massive figure of Kaptain Bluddflagg grinned evilly, as he swiped his massive sword, ripping open a slash from a Quilboar's hip to its neck. Steaming organs and its entrails poured out like a waterfall, as it fell.

"Where's da weird un?" He asked, and as if to answer, vines erupted form the ground, strangling his short stubby legs.

"Da zog?" He howled, as he turned around as much as he could, to reveal the Quilboar Shaman, known as Thornweavers. It charged, as a group of Quilboar came with them, planning to swarm him. Bluddflagg cackled, firing his massive rifle. Several Quilboar's collapsed, the burst of gunfire ripping into their armor. The Thornweaver charged, and Zentar prepared for its charge. She parried the blow, that easily would have done little damage to Bluddflagg, as she pushed him back. She swung underneath his arm, but he blocked the blow, steel screeching. The Thornweaver swung his mace, and Zentar grunted, as the mace smashed into her chest, knocking the wind out of her. She did not fall, and lashed out with a savage kick, that sent it reeling. It was about to charge once more, when its entire chest simply disappeared. In reality, Spookums the Kommando fired his splodey shell at the Thornweaver, and she only gaped at the destruction it caused. Once, the Thornweaver was running, ready to attack Zentar. The next moment, it was gone. The only thing that remained was its head, its entire torso and part of its legs completely gone, the only thing left was a red mist.

"Gud. We got da weird uns 'ead. Now lets krump dese pig boys, and get da zog outta ere." Bluddflagg said, as the thorny vines that once trapped him now receded into the ground.

"Is fighting all you care about?" She asked, rather intent on knowing. At this, the two orks burst out laughing, even as they killed Quilboars.

"We'ze orks. And we'ze meant for foightin and winnin!" Spookums said, pumping another Quilboar with a faceful of shrapnel, before he took out his sword and pistol once more, firing off several rounds. More Quilboars collapsed, fist sized holes of gore spurting out of them, disturbingly large shells falling to the ground.

"But you cant always win, right?" She said, dodging a sweep with an axe, before parrying it in return. Mista Nailbrain met up with them, the golden orb of energy flickering around him. His massive rifle barked bullets, killing several more Quilboars. Wounds all over his body were shown, with deep cuts and arrows stuck in his shoulders, but he ignored it like it was nothing!

"Dis be a common ork sayin, Zentar." Bluddflagg stated, like it was a fact. "Orkses is never defeated in battle. If we win we win, if we die we die fightin so it don't count. If we runs for it we don't die neither, cos we can come back for annuver go, see!" Zentar merely laughed at this, getting a confused glance from Bluddflagg.

"I dun see wots funny." He said, confused. Zentar looked at him, and realized that he wasn't joking.

"You think that dying in battle is counting as winning?" She said, puzzled. To this, he only gave her a great big grin.

"Of course! Da oomies dun call us da green tide fur nuffin!" He cackled, snatching a struggling Quilboar in his massive meaty paw. It struggled, and he cackled, as he squeezed the life out of it with sudden force. She winced, as she heard bones snap and crack, and blood began to spurt out of its mouth. He threw the body away, nearly hitting her.

"Dis be too eazee! Even Eldar wuld have put up a betta foight!" He said, furious.

"You mean elves?" She corrected him, at this, his anger grew even more.

"I dun zoggin care! Dis is pafetic!" He snarled, firing his rifle. Yet another Quilboar collapsed, holes all along its chest.

"Well they arent retreating, that's for sure. Quilboars are near suicidal in nature." She said, as if to point it out, the last few Quilboar charged one last time, before they were cut down by scissoring patterns of gunfire.

"Alright ya gits. How many points?" Bluddflagg asked. The orks looked at their fingers, slowly counting each one, and doing something in their head, that Zentar found rather comical. She would have laughed at anything else, but not these demigod like beings.

"I got five sets of me fingas, boss." Mista Nailbrain said.

"I got four sets." Spookums added on

"And I got four." Bluddflagg said. Then, the orks turned to face Zentar, who was utterly in the dark of what was happening.

"How many points ya got?" They asked in unison, and she shrugged. They grinned, and let out mighty guffaws of laughter.

"What's so funny?" She demanded, slightly blushing. They kept laughing, as Bluddflagg kicked a corpse to her. The corpse rolled towards her, before it stopped, its head lolling up, it's empty eyes peering at her.

"Yooze carryin all of da heads. Wot do ya fink?" The orks cackled, as they started kicking and carrying corpses over to her. She sighed, as she raised her ax, to begin the laborious task of severing each and every head.

/

Klaus peered at the the large gates in the distance, as Ketzer began to slow down. Due to the Lofn being nearly exhausted of how much she used her foul psyker powers, they had to go through the gates. However, Klaus was still suspicious. His free hand remained firmly clasped on his chainsword, and he could see that Lofn was doing the same, keeping her hand within reach of her witchblade. He doubted her combat abilities, but at least hoped she wasn't a virgin of war. Otherwise, things would go badly.

"I do not trust these humans…" She whispered, as several guards at the gate began to notice them, drawing swords and shields.

"I do not either. However, we have little choice in the matter." He replied calmly, as Ketzer came to a slow trot. If he they dared to challenge him to a fight, they would taste his blade. Or blades, depending on who you asked.

"Halt!" A guard yelled out, shield and sword ready. Ketzer stopped, and Klaus and Lofn leaped off, slowly coming forward.

"They don't look like horde." One guard said aloud, his obscured by a clunky helmet. It was visually displeasing to Klaus, but who was he to judge against these primitives?

"They certainly dont look like Alliance though." Another guard pointed out. Klaus wanted to facepalm himself.

"But the black one has the symbol of the alliance on his chest." Another said. Finally, one guard came from the small crowd of warriors that had gathered. He was not as heavily armed as the others, though still carried a two handed greatsword.

"Who are you?" He demanded. Klaus glanced at Lofn, who was wearing her helmet, her red eyes giving him a withering glance from underneath the mask. He sighed, looking back at the guard.

"I am Grenadier 652733-172948 'Klaus' of the Fifth Death Korps of Krieg Siege Regiment." He said, introducing himself. He gestured to Lofn, who made a quick bow.

"And this Farseer Lofn of Ulthwe." He said, before glancing back at the guard, who was now sweating.

"We come here seeking supplies, before departing on our journey." He stated, his hand still gripped on the chainsword, which remained in its scheathe.

"They certainly don't look like orcs…" Someone said in the crowd, with murmurs of agreements.

"Alright! Enough of this! Step aside!" Someone roared, the crowd splitting apart like water on a rock. A woman greeted them, dressed in steel armor. A golden anchor was painted on the armor, a battle axe hefted in one hand, silver gauntlets gripped in fists. A white and gold tabard hunt between her legs. She looked like a leader if Klaus ever saw one. Looking at her 'guests' she paused,the air of authority around her going away temporarily.

"Keep your eyes where they belong." Lofn whispered to him, snickering slightly at her own joke. Meanwhile, Klaus had no idea what she meant.

"Why are you here?" The leader demanded, her face contorting in anger. Meanwhile, Klaus remained calm.

"We are here to gather supplies, before we keep going on our trip." Klaus explained. She sighed, waving the guards away.

"Very well. You may enter. However, do expect some questions." She said, the anger slowly seeping away.

"You hear that Klaus? She's just going to ask questions. This isn't an interrogation." Lofn said, as they entered the large fort, leading Ketzer on with his rein.

"If you think I trust these humans, then truly, you are a fool." Klaus said through gritted teeth.

"I don't trust them either. But they haven't killed us yet." She pointed out. Klaus merely snorted.

"Then they will be saving the pleasure for later." He retorted. The captain came forward, sticking one hand out.

"I am Captain Fairmount. I welcome you to Northwatch Hold." She smiled. Klaus wasn't fooled. He could see in her eyes suspicion. He couldn't blame her. Lofn however, gullible as always, eagerly took the hand and shook it.

"I am Farseer Lofn, and this is my accomplice, Klaus."

Fairmount took a good long look at Klaus, and caught her eyes lingering where they shouldn't be. He scoffed on the inside.

"You surely must be tired. Why don't we sit down and have a meal, and then we can have some discussions there?" She asked. Lofn shot him a glance, that reeked of 'I told you so'. He ignored it, and nodded courteously.

"Very well then." Klaus said. Lofn sighed, glancing at Klaus.

"Don't mind him. Like an automaton he is." She hissed. Klaus was pretty sure that Fairmount had never heard of an automaton, judging by the confused look on her face, but she shook it off of her, the warm smile coming back once more.

"Follow me to the inn then." She said, leading the two away.

/

Lofn took another sip of cold water, as the three sat in the rather private area of the inn. Outside the door, two guards stood at the ready, though she highly doubted they would even pose a threat.

"Now that we have our greetings aside… who are you two? I have not seen any other uniforms like yours in any army of the alliance." Fairmount pointed out. Klaus merely grunted, still not taking off his skull faced gasmask. She had not yet seen his face yet, which was rather strange. Was it supposed to be a surprise?

"That is because we are not from the alliance. Neither of us are." Klaus said, keeping his calm, monotonous voice with him at all times.

"Perhaps you can take off your helmet and mask? We are having a discussion, after all." She said, sternly. Lofn gave her a worried look, before glancing back at Klaus, and was shocked that he was doing as she wished. He carefully took off his helmet, revealing his raven black hair, with small splotches of grey. He fumbled with the straps of his gasmask, before he took it off, careful not to harm the tubing. Lofn let out a small gasp. He certainly was handsome, with those bright blue eyes filled with contained anger and suspicion. His skin was pale, and a few scars crisscrossed along his cheeks. It seemed like no facial hair whatsoever could be found. He took a quick glance at Lofn, and she felt herself losing herself in his eyes. Only for a few moments though, before he looked back at Fairmount. She only grunted.

"Are you some sort of half elf?" She said, scoffing. Faster than Lofn could ever imagine possible by a human, Klaus drew his knife, the monomolecular tip held at her throat.

"I am no abomination, like my friend here. Clearly, the alcohol you were so persistent in drinking in has caused you a lapse of judgement, and for this, I shall not gut you like a pig." He spat, retracting his knife, shoving it back in his scheathe. Lofn then realised he had insulted her again, and under the table, she gave him a quick jab with her elbow. Klaus glanced at her, his icy blue eyes staring daggers at her, before he turned back to Fairmount, who was rubbing her neck, a small pinprick of blood dripping from the wound.

"I apologize sincerely. My… friend-" She said, interrupted by Klaus giving a snort. She sighed, before continuing.

"He really can't handle insults well." She said, hoping not to mention his extreme xenophobia. Fairmount seemed to buy it.

"I can understand. So, Klaus, how long have you served in the military?" She asked, calming herself down. Lofn suddenly realized, that with a little mind games, she could make Fairmount ask the questions she wanted. She pushed this thought away, for now. Certainly it was tempting, but she wanted, no, needed to earn Klaus's trust.

"I have served in the military for around six years, since the age of twelve." He said calmly. Lofn gasped, while Fairmount, surprised no doubt, kept her cool.

"I thought the recruitment age was sixteen, no?" She said, more of a statement then a question. Klaus shrugged.

"Although I would love to fight the enemies of mankind once more, that is not my goal. Not here, not now." He said, shrugging slightly.

"So why do you side with a half elf?" She probed. Klaus took a good long look at Lofn, his blue eyes absorbing every feature of her face, before lazily looking back at Fairmount.

"She has proven her abilities to be more than useful. Although I certainly don't like the fact that I must be with a half breed, we are stuck together with the same purpose." He replied smoothly. Lofn didn't know whether to be angry, or satisfied. Probably both though.

"And what would this purpose, be, exactly?" Fairmount asked. Klaus gave a small smile, and leaned in.

"To protect this realm from the threats that harass it. I will fight, and I will die, to make sure that this realm remains protected for the emperor of mankind." He said, leaning back.

"Emperor of Mankind?" She asked, slightly confused. Klaus cleared his throat.

"NO DONT!" Lofn squealed, but it was too late.

Review Time

Comissar Carl: Will do fam Ȍ ͜つȌ

rc48177: WAAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHH!

Tenash: I shall keep up the good work for you.


	15. Chapter 15: Revelations

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!

Some good amount of character development in this one!

Im releasing this chapter earlier then I would have liked, because I may not be able to make one for tomorrow.

And for those wondering How I can pump this stuff out so quickly...

I have no life :)  
So anyways, I hope you can enjoy!

The Scourge. A force of both united horde and alliance soldiers. It would have been a glorious sight in these troubling, if not they were all either dog like ghouls, shambling zombies, or clacking skeletons. However, if these forces attacked Orgrimmar and Stormwind, they wouldn't prove to be a threat. Instead, dozens of mighty Frost Wyrms had attacked during sunset. Thrall watched in disbelief, as hundreds of corpses were carried away to cemeteries and burial grounds alike. The dead bodies of Abominations and bones of mighty Frost Wyrms being disposed of, whether to be burned or to be left to rot. He looked at the haunted faces of dead warriors as they were driven away in wagons. The faces of warriors who would not grace the battlefield once more. The faces of parents who would no longer see their children. The sons of of friends, who would never meet once again. Thrall nodded his head in respect. Orcs had honor, which was sometimes more important than life itself. But over all, they had respect for the dead. No matter the villain, they deserved rest in the afterlife.

He heard booming footsteps behind him, and he turned around, to see the strangest orc, possibly ever.

"We'ze got ya posh pig boy eads." He said, as an orc came forward, with a large sac. She collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion, sweating buckets, the sac ripping open, and dozens of Quilboar heads came rolling out.

"I didn't think you would get all of them." He grunted, partially in respect. If four warriors could hold out against an entire mob of Quilboar, they were fine warrior indeed. Bluddflagg merely grinned, as he took the head of the thornweaver, and shoved it on the trophy rack mounted on his back. Fine warriors they were, but they certainly were brutal in methods.

"Wot da zog happened here?" He said, pointing to the wartorn battlefield that had taken place outside of Orgrimmar's walls. Thrall snorted, waving to the field of dead.

"The Lich King had struck here. Or as the voice called itself, The Herald of the Lich King. But the intent is clear enough. The armies of the dead threatens to march the kingdoms of the living once more. We will wage war against them." He said, practically spitting the name of The Lich King. Bluddflagg Only snorted.

"Ya cant even foight a bunch of dead gits? Dis is a bad showin, dat is." He snarled. Thrall bristled at the insult, but calmed himself.

"Were you to face them in combat, then you would say otherwise." He replied calmly. Bluddflagg raised an eyebrow, as the Kommando Nob, Spookums came over, with a dragon skull in his hand.

"Souvie!" He cackled, looking at the snarling skull of the expired Frost Wyrm.

"Soides, dont ya work wiff dose pasty boys? Wot did ya call em? Forsaken?" Bluddflagg questioned. Thrall shook his head.

"The Forsaken were once Scourge, but they had since freed themselves from the Lich Kings thrall. Though many do not trust them, they still have their uses." Thrall explained. Bluddflagg seemed convinced, and that was good enough for him.

"If I were ya, I would watch dose pasty boys." He said, and Thrall couldn't agree more. The induction of the forsaken, had been… tricky. To say the least. However, he couldn't afford to have the horde split. Not here, not now. Not with the Burning Legion, ever taking more ground in Outlands, and now the Scourge from Northrend. Not to mention, possibly the alliance, although he could hope that Jaina was doing her best to prevent all out war. Thrall's eyes were drawn to the firearms suddenly, with curiosity. They didn't seem to be of gnomish design, as they seemed so scrappy. It didn't even seem like it should work. But it did. This gave him an idea.

"Bluddflagg, do you not have a mechanic under your wing?" He asked. Bluddflagg gave him a suspicious glance.

"Dat wuld be Mista Nailbrain. Wot ya want wiff him?" He asked, Thrall gave a small smile.

"A private conversation, if you will." Thrall said, hoping he wouldn't press the issue forward.

"Wots it to ya?" He inquired, as Mista Nailbrain came over, a small totem on his back spitting bolts of energy. Thrall glanced at the totem, before looking back up at Bluddflagg.

"I have a friend he might want to meet. A fellow engineer in a craft so similar. He resides in Ratchet, so here's a deal. I will send you and your crew to the next ship to Ratchet. There, look for an engineer by the name of Gazlowe. He would be very… interested… to say the least to meet. Then, you can look for your human friend." Thrall said. Mista Nailbrain had his last remaining eye part up in hope.

"Deres anuva mek in dis zoggin place?" He said in astonishment. Thrall partly didn't understand him, but he nodded.

"A fellow in his trade. One of the most skilled engineers I have ever met." To this, Mista Nailbrain gave a big toothy grin, the screw in his mouth falling into his hands.

"Den annuva ork is gonna take his place!" He grinned, hefting his massive firearm on his shoulder, his eyes, one real, and the other seemingly made of metal, were gleaming red in pride. Bluddflagg looked down at his firstmate, and then grinned.

"Now look at wot ya dun. Tis a deel den." He said, smiling. Thrall nodded, sticking out his hand. It was engulfed in sweaty, green flesh. Although these three might butcher Common like no tomorrow, and they smelled awful, they were good orcs. At least he thought.

"Now that things are out of the way, perhaps we could sit down, and share some stories? I am rather… interested… in your stories of old. To this Bluddflagg grinned even wider.

"Den lets get to it den."

/

Klaus walked into the bedroom, the only one left in the inn, and realised instantly that something was wrong. There was only one bed. It was small, fit for one person. Not two. He calmed himself, telling himself that he would sleep on the floor. He set down his satchel on the table, wondering how he would light the candles. The sun was setting, giving a cascade of yellow, orange, red, and even a tinge of violet. On the table, there were a few flowers in a vase. Klaus sat down on a stool, and brought it close. He delicately took the flower in his hand, looking it over with great care. Flowers were a well respected part of Kriegen culture, as Krieg was once filled with miles of beds of flowers. He looked it over diligently, careful not to break it. It had petals the color of cyan, shaped like rounded triangles, the center of the flower gleaming a bright yellow. He carefully put it down on the table, slowly taking off his gloves, revealing his pale hands. He picked up the flower once again, his fingers softly brushing against the petals.

"Didn't know you cared for things." A familiar voice said. He growled, putting the flower back into the vase with diligence, before slipping his gloves back on.

"I do care about things. I just care little about YOU." He said, spitting 'You' like it was the most heinous curse he knew. It was partly true. She only smiled once more, and Klaus found himself cursing at the fact that he couldn't kill her here and now. Not only was she a xeno, but she was also an hybrid! She did not deserve to live! He calmed himself. The emperor himself, commanded that he make sure that the eldar stayed alive. Right? He couldn't remember that part.

"It's a shame." She said, shrugging her bag softly onto the bed. He glanced hard at Lofn, giving her an icy stare.

"You want something from me." He stated. She shrugged.

"I simply wish to talk." She said calmly, although Klaus knew that something was up.

"What do you wish to talk about?" He asked. Normally, he would of flat out refused, but he was interested in what she truly wanted from him. She sat down on the bed, her black robes matching against the white fabric.

"I simply wish to talk." She said once again, more sternly however. She pointed to a rack by the door, and realized what she wanted. She wanted him to take off his helmet and mask. He considered denying her the request. However, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He slowly took off his mask, leaving it hanging by the tubing. He put his helmet on the rack, and he sat down on the bed with her. She came closer, and he gave her a furious glance, hoping it would ward her off. It failed.

"You're troubled, Klaus." she said suddenly, taking him by surprise. She looked at him, her soft brown eyes peering into his icy, angry blue eyes.

"You're troubled." She repeated. Klaus merely scoffed. The foul psyker and her mind games!

"Observant, abomination. And what would you have me do? Go down to my knees, and beg for forgiveness? Say prayers to the emperor while you touch me with your filthy hands?" He snapped. If she was insulted, she didn't show it.

"Something happened to you… as all Korpsmen, you are cold. You have unswerving loyalty to your emperor, ready to die at a command. But yet… But yet, when I look in your eyes, I see that something happened to you. So long ago, that made you colder than your fellow Korpsmen. You resent something, or someone, because they took something away from you." She stated. Klaus was shocked. How did she know this? Did she read his mind? No, he would have felt the touch of the xeno. But she wasn't done yet.

"Now let me get things straight. I'm not forcing you to do anything. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. As a matter of fact, I don't even expect you to do it. Why would you share a memory you cherish, or hate with a burning passion, to a xeno, a hybrid like me? But if you did tell your problems to someone you trust…" She said, leading him on slightly. It was like she was reading his mind! Maybe she was...

"Then perhaps the pain that resides in your soul could be relieved." She said finally, twirling her fingers around in a curious fashion. Klaus took in a deep breath. He didn't know why he was going to do this. To make the foul abomination leave him alone, he told himself.

"If you are so… persistent… to hear my troubles… then perhaps I could enlighten you." He growled, forcing each and every single word out of him, as If he had been wearing a muzzle. Lofn kept herself calm, but already, he could see that she was excited.

"I shall keep things short. A creature like you does not even deserve to hear such information." He added on, before he cleared his throat.

"My first deployment was on an Agri World, a place that was under siege by orks. I was separated from my squad during an artillery bombardment. As I wandered through a ruined city, finding orks looting the bodies of the dead with abandon, I killed them. It was to be expected." He said calmly, emotions starting to creep their way into his voice.

"It was nearly a month of walking, looting my fellow Korpsmen of their identification markers, and supplies if needed. Then, I found a little girl. She too, was lost during a bombardment, and lost her parents during the initial evacuation. Somehow, she had survived, despite being in ork lines. An impressive feat indeed, of a civilian no less. Under normal circumstances, I would have shot the girl, and left her. But we were not dealing with the foul slaves of chaos, in which heresy could have easily tainted said girl. We were dealing with orks. I agreed to help her find a way out of the city, and back into Imperial Lines. After all, a little girl that survived for nearly a month in ork likes is a commendable service. For a week, we had searched for a way into Imperial Lines, until finally, we got in. The legendary warriors, the Adeptus Astartes had joined us as well. The Space Wolves. The local Commissar found me guilty of heresy and treason, for not dying for the emperor, in a completely uncontested ork line. It was a great shame, that even now, had never been lifted. I was prepared for my execution. The little girl was to be sent to be a slave, or servitor." He said, guilt in his voice. He paused for a moment, before he continued, more emotions seeping into his voice.

"But then, a space wolf intervened. Brother Zuko, Third Company. Tactical Sergeant, intervened. He commended me for my bravery, and put an end to the execution. He said that I should be proud. I had brought a civilian safe from harm, and killed a good number of the enemy with me. There was no treason in that. But then, the orks charged one last time. The green tide came roaring, and were let loose on the trenches." He continued, anger blossoming like a flower.

"The foul orks threw everything they had, and me and Zuko stood together valiantly. Bolter and Lasgun made a deadly dance, sweeping through our foes one at a time. Bolt shells and Power packs littered our feet, as we made our stand. Then, Zuko was shot. A looted auto cannon had knocked him down past the point of recovery. I stood by his side, urging him to get up. He shook his head. Instead, he did something that I would…" He said, not sure how to continue. A gentle hand was put on his shoulder, but he did not have the strength to push it off.

"I would never forget. He gave me a purity seal. A seal that commends Zuko for his bravery, even among Astartes. He gave it to me. I could not refuse. The orks were soon pushed back. The girl that I had saved was dead. I never asked her for her name. She never asked for mine. The Commissar commended me for my bravery. But from that day forward, I had lost two things, and gained one thing."

"And what would that be?" Lofn asked smoothly, and calmly. Klaus was startled to realize that both of her arms were around him. She was hugging him. Although, it was in a rather awkward position. He wanted to push her off of him. He needed to. But for some reason, something in his mind was preventing him from doing it.

"A hatred for the xenos. We hate the heretic for their blasphemous ways, and how they could turn on the emperor for selfishness and promises of power. Before, I did not detest the xeno. The emperor declared the xeno was to be ridden of, a plague to be cured of. I followed his commandments. We all did. However, after that day, I earned a burning hatred for the xenos. For their malicious ways, their sadistic methods, and utter disregard for life." He said, rage threatening to consume him. He pushed it down, breathing in deeply and heavily.

"Does it feel better? To know that their is someone, willing to listen to your troubles?" She asked softly. Klaus gave her a glance, and sighed.

"It is difficult to explain. On one hand, I feel relieved that someone has finally heard my troubles and past sins, and is willing to sympathize. On the other hand, it is the one who is listening that fills me with disgust, and rage. Of how far I am willing to fall from the emperor's light." He said truthfully. Lying wasn't a social skill that he had learned yet, for in the Imperial Guard, it was not needed. She nodded slightly.

"Your emperor is proud of you, Klaus. He is proud of all of those faithful to him. Of how in all of the horrors of the galaxy, such as the soulless necrons, the savage orks, the insane followers of chaos, that you remain standing and proud." She told him. Klaus merely grunted, a faint smile forming on his face.

"These words would be pleasing if they had come from an Imperial Priest, not an eldar hybrid." He said. She shrugged, smiling back at him.

"In times like these, you will often have to do things that normally, you weren't willing to do." She explained. Klaus's smile grew slightly wider

"Like not killing each and every living being here." He added. She giggled, and nodded.

"Like not killing each and every living being here." She smirked. Klaus slowly got up, Lofn retracting her arms. Klaus felt like a great weight was lifted off of his chest. Though he did feel that he would have to cleanse himself of her touch.

"Very well, Xeno Lofn. It is time that I go to sleep. Goodnight." He said, lowering himself to lie on the floor. Lofn gave him a puzzled look, before she sighed. Klaus fit his gasmask and helmet back on, and lied down on the floor, his head against the hardwood floor. He closed his eyes, and the last two things that he felt before he fell asleep, was the sensation of a blanket being draped around his undergarments, and the words of "Goodnight, Klaus."

Review Time

No New Reviews... Oh boy


	16. Chapter 16: The Skeleton

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!

So sorry I couldnt upload yesterday.

Funny thing actually, for some reason, I couldnt see the reviews for Kriegcraft after I made chapter fourteen.

They simply dissapeared until after I finished making this one, so I got a lot of Reviews to go through.

Anyways, Some new characters in this one...

Hope you can enjoy!

Lofn's eyelids fluttered, and she rose up, scratching her nose. She fixed her hair, although as always, several strands stuck out. She had a foul taste in her mouth. She rose from bed, stretching her legs, as she walked to the bathroom, a small section of the room they had rented. She paused, turning around. Klaus wasn't on the floor. _Well he's up._ She thought to herself. She walked towards the bathroom door, when she heard movement behind it. Her ears perked up, and she listened closely. She heard the unmistakeable sound of high gothic.

"O imperator, ignosce mihi. Miserere mei ferre non possum divinatione opus tuo nomine fecerit. Dimitte me furor haereticus non timet. Remitte mihi, ut ultra cessat ab caede ad Xenonem recordemur nominis tui. Ignosce mihi, quia immundus ambulabat, et sanctificabat illos a facie mea. Dimitte me, imperator. Ave, imperator, quia qui sine macula, sine dubio et absque vitio egistis. Ave, imperator... Ave, imperator." She heard Klaus mumbled through the door. Intent on knowing what was happening, she crept as quietly as possible to the door, her eyes peeking through one of the holes in the wood. She saw Klaus, washing his black greatcoat with water and soap, a wooden bucket sloshing violently, as Klaus carefully washed his uniform from dirt and blood. He brushed his carapace armor hard with a sturdy brush, going through nooks and cranniesn in the armor plating. His black and grey hair was wet and dripping, and she could see his reflection through the mirror that hung from the wall. While before his eyes were filled with anger and suspicion, now they were filled with doubt, and worry. She wished that she could comfort him, but she could do little. He continued to wash his greatcoat, pouring soapy water all over it.

"Mere humanum a me. Repletus sum culpa. Repletus sum, peccatum. Repletus sum dubium. O imperator, ferte faces in heres Caecuba dignior Lux in tenebris et caligine ullius dubitationis maiestatis secura. O imperator. Ego oro ad te. Da mihi signum. Da mihi signum quod tu magis ausculta quod loquor. Da mihi signum quod ex praeterito possit remitti maiestatis olim anxii futuri et praeteriti dubia. Ave Imperator… Ave Imperator…" He mumbled again, as he set his greatcoat aside, putting it on the counter. He looked at himself in the mirror, and sighed. His hands went to his shirt, and slowly started pulling it off. _Damn you and your curiosity!_ She cursed at herself, trying to tear herself away from the door, trying to pull back. _Pull back! Pull back! PULL BACK!_

Her thoughts were interrupted as Klaus finally pulled off his shirt. Her eyes were drawn to the mirror, and found it impossible to pull away. He was muscular, but he wasn't unmarked. Scars were found everywhere. A small group of five, angry red marks were found on his shoulder, entry and exit wounds, caused from lasguns possibly. Claw marks were over his stomach and gut, though they seemed to heal rather nicely. A black barcode tattoo was on the back of his neck, with his identification number. A large ugly scar traveled from his left pectoral, all the way down to the right side of his ribcage, one that even showed on the back, as it seemed to travel partly around, nearly halfway around his body. He scratched at that scar in particular with his bare hands, before he began washing his black shirt. She realised with a pang of guilt what he would be washing next. She took several deep breaths, and with all of her willpower, she tore herself from the door. What she did not notice was the look of mixed anger and admiration in Klaus's eyes.

/

Bluddflagg was simply disgusted at the weakness of these orcs. While they had dinner last night, which was pretty good, although Bluddflagg would have much rather preferred a good tasty Face Eater Squig, Thrall had explained the history of the horde. How in Gorks name did they get enslaved by demons? Dat was zoggin pathetic! No good ork in his right mind would serve the chaos gods! Sure sometimes Stormboyz would "worship" Khorne, but that was a phase. This however, was disgusting. Especially when he mentioned that some orcs drank it willingly! WILLINGLY! No, Disgusted was not the proper word to describe what he felt to these orcs. Loathing was more like it. Give him a few weeks to whip everyone into proper shape, and they could easily conquer the whole planet! But instead, they were held back by "peace treaties" and "status quotas". Speaking of which, here came Thrall, and a strange lady he had not seen before. But as he glanced hard at her, he realised that it was a pasty git. The tell tale characteristics were there. The grey, and sometimes pale skin color. The seemingly grey and black smog that followed them, and the red eyes under that cowl. These were clues that she was a pasty git. Bluddflagg was rather unnerved by these pasty boys. If they were dead, then they shouldn't be walking. They should be lying dead on the ground. Thrall had explained to him that they were undead. Living a second life. Bluddflagg was also surprised that orcs could become undead. Orks lived lives in other orks bodies. When they died, their spirits were barfed into another body. The fact that these orcs were not barfed into more bodies was disturbing.

"Bluddflagg, meet Sylvanas Whisperwind. Dark Lady of the Forsaken." Thrall said, slightly worried about introducing them. The two looked hard at each other, letting their eyes soak up each other. They both had different thoughts in their minds. While Bluddflagg was wondering how she kept such a figure, and wasn't a rotten, maggoty corpse, Sylvanas was thinking of a potential ally, that would prove to be a worthy replacement of someone she had very little trust in.

"Kaptain Bluddflagg." She said politely, finally breaking the silence, nodding her cowled head, her red eyes moving down with the gesture. Bluddflagg gave a quick snort, and copied the gesture.

"Dark Ladee." He grunted. She looked up at him once more, her face impassive. Bluddflagg took a quick glance at Thrall, and a saw a small smile creeping on his face.

"So wot da meanin of dis be?" He asked. Thrall cleared his throat, before speaking.

"It was nothing. I simply thought it would be good to introduce you to a fellow member of the horde." He said calmly. Bluddflagg glanced at Sylvanas, his eyes filled with suspicion. The pasty git was thinking of something. What, he had no idea. At least of yet.

"So how do we get to dis ratchet place den? I need ta foind da humie." He said, tearing his gaze away, settling it on Thrall. He kept his cool, though he shifted slightly under the withering glare he was getting now. Bluddflagg was getting fed up.

"About that. Most of our ships are being currently used, ferrying troops to Northrend to deal with the scourge. You will have to travel on land, I am afraid." Thrall explained. Bluddflagg snarled, his finger accidentally pulling the trigger of his Kustom Shoota, that he still held lowered in his hand. A torrent of bullets spewed out, digging into the dirt outside of the capital building, a smoke cloud forming around the dual barrels. He smacked it with his hand, fixing the jam, a clip falling out of place.

"Gotta talk to Mista Nailbrain bout dat…" He grumbled, stowing it away, leaving an empty sickle clip on the ground, along with dozens of shells. Meanwhile, Sylvanas's already peaked interest soared. Dull these orcs were, but they seemed smart enough to carry firearms that she had never seen before. They were no Blunderbusses or Muskets, or of any gnomish design, indeed they surpassed that. It could be incredibly useful... And if Bluddflagg had more underlings like him… he would prove to be a very worthy servant indeed.

"Kaptain Bluddflagg, If I may. How many do you have in your… krew?" She said, keeping her cold personality like a visor. His remaining eye narrowed at the question.

"Three. Da zog do ya want wiff em?" He growled, his hand slowly going to his cutlass, which he kept in his squig hide scheathe. She saw the gesture, but ignored it. Threats were meaningless to her.

"Nothing. I was merely asking. Though, I think I have a way I can help you." She proposed. His already narrowed eye narrowed even more, a thin slit of red granting him vision. His hand reluctantly retracted from grabbing his cutlass.

"Esplain." Bluddflagg growled. She still kept her cool. A commendable act. Not many would remain so calm, especially when an ork warboss was on the receiving end of the questions, and one wrong question would leave the interrogator a very leaky piece of meat. Bluddflagg wondered idly if Sylvanas even had blood left in her.

"You do not appear to know the lay of the land, or how to get to Ratchet, in simpler words. I could help you with that." She said. Both Thrall and Bluddflagg looked at each other with an uneasy glance, before looking back at the Dark Lady.

"Yoo want to kum along?" He asked, suspicion creeping into his voice. She shook her head.

"No. I have other things to attend to. However, on the other hand, I could provide you with a Dark Ranger to help escort you to Ratchet. A new member of your krew, if you would." She explained. Bluddflagg shook his mind clear of the thoughts racing in his head. Something was up, but Sylvanas disguised her true intent so well he could not decipher it.

"Wots da catch?" He growled. She merely shrugged her shoulders.

"A favor. A simple favor. Surely, if you want to find this human so badly, that would matter little in the end… would it not?" She asked. Bluddflagg stared hard at her, but he could find no lies, no malicious intent. She was either a really good liar, or telling the truth, but he hardly believed that she was telling the truth. He would have to keep his eye open on this one.

"Foine. Its a deal. But be warned, Pasty Git. We'ze orks may look dumb, but we'ze kunnin. If i foind a knoife in me back, and its from ye Ranga, yoo'll foind a knoife in yer bakk soon enuff." He growled, extending his hand, a gesture he had quickly adapted from other members of the horde. She took it in both of her cold and lifeless hands, and 'shook' it. He pulled back slightly, shaking his hand of a spectral touch.

"Very well. Meet outside here by sunset. She shall be ready by then." She said, before she walked off, her cloak flapping behind her. Bluddflagg glanced at Thrall, who merely shrugged.

/

A Kommando and his kit should never be parted. Like a Warboss and his Bosspole, a Kommando and his kit made him a Kommando. Without it, he would just be a really sneaky ork. Spookums was preparing a batch of stikkbombs. Taking a can of volatile fungus juice, he poured it into the hollowed metal cylinder. He screwed the cylinder shut, before working on the priming mechanism. He was no Mek, but even he knew how to make Stikkbombs. Sure it took five dead grots, a really angry Kaptain, and daemons being summoned on the kroozer to learn how to do it, but it was worth it.

"What are you doing?" Zentar asked, coming into his room. Spookums glanced up at her, before back at the Stikkbombs. Because he didn't have a house, Zentar offered him to stay for now.

"Makin me sum Stikkbombs." He growled back, as he finished slapping the priming mechanism back into the Stikkbomb, screwing the pin into the designated hole. He shook the Stikkbomb, and was satisfied that it hadn't exploded in front of him. He stowed it in his sack, before he took out more bits and scraps from his sack. One of his boobee traps wasn't working again. He would have to fix it.

"How do you know how to make these? They look so advanced." She said, idly looking at one of the Stikkbombs that lied on the floor. Spookums snorted.

"Da meks on our krooza taught me." He grumbled, dissembling the mine. It fell apart in pieces of his hand, and he began to assemble it once more.

"And what happened to them?" She asked. Spookums grumbled, standing up, before his head hit the ceiling. He snarled, rubbing his throbbing head. He glanced at her, and he sighed.

"Da krooza got shot down. Most of da boyz got killed. Only me, Mista Nailbrain, and da Kaptain survived. I fink." He said. Zentar didn't say anything, and walked away, leaving Spookums to do his work. Spookums looked back at the mine in the floor, and sat down once more, intent on fixing it. Suddenly, his eyes were drawn to the skull of the Frost Wyrm, still in his sack. He grabbed it, and looked intently at it. Suddenly, he thought of an idea. He came out of the house, looking for the Mek.

/

Klaus spat on the rag, before he started to polish his boots. He had finished his daily routine. Cleansing, Prayers, Exercises, and now Maintenance. After he finished polishing his boots, he would say prayers to the Machine Spirits to his Lasgun and Chainsword, and then he would be prepared to leave. Lofn was downstairs, having breakfast. Lofn… Klaus didn't really know what to think of her anymore. She obviously had very little qualms about his privacy, that much was clear. Although he was thankful that she left before he began to clean the lower parts of his undergarments, he was still furious at himself that he could have let her sneak up on him. He prayed extra hard after that for the emperor to forgive him for his folly. A slight on his honor, no doubt at all. A moment of weakness, in which she exploited. In addition, she was still a xeno, and a hybrid at that, which made him loathe her even more. But he remembered from his vision, that he should not think of her like that… right? He couldn't remember that part too much. That was strange. How could he forget anything about the most glorious sight he had ever seen?

He finished polishing his boots, before he began to mumble prayers to his Lasgun and Chainsword. The Lasgun came first, followed by the Chainsword. This took around ten minutes, five for each tool, in which he was still wondering the same question. What would happen after he killed the Lich King? He paused at this, stopping himself from getting off of the bed. The emperor had told him to make sure that the two factions did not split, or war against each other, or cataclysmic events would happen in the real universe. But how would he do that? He was no Astartes, who were demigod like beings. He was only a lowly guardsman. Their was not much, if anything at all, he could do anyways. But yet again, Orks were biologically immortal, and so were the eldar. He wasn't immortal though. So how could he be the 'eternal guardian?'. He would think of this later. He rose up from his bed, sheathing his chainsword and putting his lasgun over his shoulder, before he walked out of the room. He went downstairs, to which Lofn was eating a plate of vegetables on the far left. The other guests at the inn glared at Klaus with a mix of emotions. Klaus ignored them, walking over to Lofn. He sat down at the chair across from the table, to find a plate of food already on the table.

"Enjoy." She said simply, too busy stuffing her mouth with vegetables and fruits. Klaus glanced at his plate, and sighed, slowly easing off his gasmask. Again.

/

The satyrs came into the tomb, each brandishing their weapons. It was not of them to come so close to Night Elf territory in such times, but it would matter little. Their master, a doom guard, sent them to explore this tomb, as their were rumors of a prize that would lay devastation to even the strongest fortresses. As so, a large group of satyrs and fellow cultists stayed out the temple, watching out for night elves. Such relics would be essential if the Burning Legion were to invade Azeroth once more, and succeed. A few satyrs carried torches, as they went through the ancient tomb. Metal Skeletons were on the walls, each leaning down, as if they required something to power up again. They looked strange and dubious, as the satyrs came into another room of the tomb. They paused, to see another Metal Skeleton, with a green orb in its hands. The lead satyr, a warlock, passed the torch to one of its fellows, as it carefully came forward, looking for any traps. It accidentally tripped on one of the steps, and it slammed into the skeleton.

It did not even budge an inch, and the satyrs let out a hoot of laughter. The warlock snarled at them, but a whirring noise came from the skeleton. They all looked back, as the skeleton began to glow green. Bright green lights came from its carapace and powered up. Its dull black eyes powered up with green malice. An ancient staff came to life, and the green orb flourished in its hands. It looked at the satyrs, and without hesitation, it charged at them. The staff shot out a green bolt of lighting, and the warlock didn't have time to scream as it simply disappeared. The skeleton was among them in a moment, sweeping through them. The blades on its staff cut through armor and flesh like tissue paper, blood and gore spilling out of them. A few satyrs charged at it. One swung a scimitar, but it let out a cry of alarm as the blade simply broke at contact. The skeleton grabbed it by the neck with one hand, and squeezed so hard that its head popped like a cork, a fountain of blood exploding out of its body. Another threw a spear at its head, but it simply bounced off of the skeleton, barely making a dent. In return, the skeleton swung its staff like a scythe, and the satyr teetered, as its legs were cut from beneath it. It fell to the ground, and the skeleton stomped on its skull, exploding outward like a ripe berry. The last satyr let out bolts of shadow magic. It was shocked that it simply disappeared in a burst of green light. The satyr looked around it, holding a scimitar, looking for the skeleton. It did not notice the green light appeared behind it, until the staff was shoved through its gut. It howled, as its body dissolved around the staff. It simply ceased to exist.

The skeleton looked around, seeing its work well done. It left the room, exploring its tomb. Soon, it came across its fellows. More skeletons lined the walls. The green orb shout a burst of green lighting, as it slammed into the tomb. Tendrils of energy seeped into the warriors. The skeleton thought it's fellows would join him, but they did not rise. They were inactive. The skeleton walked to one of its lessers, its green eyes looking intently into its dark pits. Nothing. The skeleton prepared the orb once again. Yet again, green lightning shot out, wrapping around each of its warriors. Nothing. The skeleton was emotionless, but it showed the closest resemblance to frustration, as it's staff swept like a scythe, cutting its head clean off. It was abandoned. It was the only one left. A single thought processed in its minds. _Must escape._ It set off to find the exit to its tomb. A Necron had awoken.

Review Time

Daspeas: He certainly didnt.

Rc48177: Even more orks :)

Commisar Carl: Also because of aforementioned bug, in which I couldn't see some reviews. I apologize to those I couldn't answer to before.

Panzer Hunter: That's pretty funny! I actually didn't notice that

The Weeping Prophet: Wait no longer... for they have come...

Varangue: I dont think so, and thank you

Rc48177: Dakka Dakka Dakka indeed.

Guest: Unfortunetly, Angry Marines will not make an entrance in the story. That would require a whole different story

Guest: Ayyy (づᵔᗜᵔ)づ

BluePanedGasMask: He is not making a Shokk Prodd, hilarious as it would be. And dont worry about that... Klaus will find out soon enough. I shall keep up the good work


	17. Chapter 17: The Lord of Metal

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!

So, this chapter focuses heavily on our newest friend/foe/master

Just want to introduce him, alright?  
Anyways, I hope you can enjoy!

The Necron Lords were the pinnacles of Necron Society. During their rebirth into their Necrodermis bodies, their souls were untouched, unlike the lower dregs of society, such as the warriors and immortals. As so, Necron Lords did 'show' emotion. Not like a living being did of course, but it was still something.

This Necron Lord was seething in rage. How dare they? How dare his warriors of old refuse his command to rise? How dare these lowly, worthless dregs, not obey his command? They still remained inactive, even with his best attempts to raise them with his Ressurection Orb. He wondered how these strange creatures even got into the tomb. He had warded it with Necron seals, so nothing except other Necrons could get in. If his memory served him right, Most of his people were destroyed by strange creatures, and the last survivors had fled into the tomb, where they sealed themselves in. For thousands of years, they had dwelled in the tomb, and slept peacefully. Now they were all dead, or at least permanently inactive. He knew there were no other tombs. He was alone.

He snarled in anger, an angry metallic shriek, as he swept through more of these goat like creatures. Some fled like cravens, while others dared to fight them. His Staff of Light was already covered in blood and ichor, gauss beams flying out, slaying some of these creatures, their skins, and then muscles being disassembled, atom by atom, as they simply turned into nothing, while others were cut mercilessly apart, their wet steaming bodies collapsing on the cold metal floors. He was filled in anger and rage, as he headed toward the ancient relic hold. Finally, he reached the door, after killing nearly three dozen of these goat creatures. He put his cold hand on the Necron rune, and it glowed back in response. The doors slid open, disturbing layers of dust and sand. He calmed himself. He was a Necron Lord, not a mindless warrior. He walked into the ancient vault, the door closing behind him. He put the Resurrection Orb on a pedestal, small clasps holding the ancient orb. He certainly wouldn't need it, knowing that he was the only Necron left. His green eyes were drawn to a small charm, held by clasps on a separate pedestal. He walked to it carefully, his freehand now carefully taking the charm. It was no charm of course, but rather, a Necron phylactery. Phylacteries were charms filled with millions of nano scarabs, essentially making his Necrodermis regeneration abilities triple in strength. He would not die. A useful tool, no doubt. He put it to where living beings would have collar bones. The Phylactery dug into his 'skin'. It glowed green softly, letting him know the installation was complete. His eyes were drawn to more and more relics. He scanned over each and every one, dismissing them, though two did peek his interest. The first was a lightning field, a small charm that shout out bolts of green lightning at melee attackers. Useful, no doubt. The next was a phase shifter, which could make him temporarily phase out of reality. It was also like a small charm, and he installed it underneath the Phylactery and Lightning Field. He kept looking, dismissing others. Did he really have such terrible artifacts? Then he scanned one, and his carefree mood dropped. Was… was that a shard? He carefully came close, looking at it. It was a shard, but not just any shard. A shard of the Nightbringer. This was bad. What was such a powerful shard doing in a tomb like this? If mortals could get in the tomb… and they released this power…

The Necron Lord shook his head free of thoughts. It was with great reluctance, that he took the shard. It hummed softly in his hand, and if he was a fool, he would have dismissed this. No, the Nightbringer was active. It whispered to his soul...

 _Release me… Release me... Release me…_

The Necron Lord shook his head again, clearing his thoughts, as he stowed the shard away. It was his, until he could find a better place to hide it. He continued to look at the artifacts, and saw another charm. He picked it up, and shook it slightly. Hundreds of scarabs came out, and he was pleased. Mindshackle Scarabs. He sent a telepathic command, and the Mindshackle scarabs retreated into their hive. They could prove useful. He left the artifact vault, only to find more of these goat creatures. Now, they were accompanied by psykers. _Great,_ he thought to himself, as he fired several gauss beams at them. Three of the psykers howled, as they were flayed alive by the gauss technology. The others looked in horror at what was happening to their comrades. A fatal mistake, as he was on them in a moment. He decided to keep one alive. He needed information, after all. He swept through them like a scythe through weaves. Their weapons were pitiful! At least against eldar, they proved to be of some threat! He laughed, a metallic screech coming from his 'mouth', as he killed more and more. A goatman charged him with a spear, trying to dig it into his knee joint. He parried the attack, the flimsy spear snapping into pieces. The shocked look on its face was priceless, and he smiled inwardly, as he dug his staff through its chest. It exploded like a grenade, covering its fellows in gore. Some who had at least a bit of brains fled in absolute terror. _Cowards_. He snarled, as he activated his lightning field. The goatmen around him screamed in pain, as bolts of lightning shot out from the charm, electrocuting them. They collapsed, their skin sizzling and bubbling, their nervous systems fried. The last few tried to run.

He shot down two of them, before made a mental command to the mindshackle scarabs. Dozens came out of the charm, scuttling to his hand, as he threw them. The last goatman cried in pain, as the mindshackle scarabs dug through its skull, and then into its brain. It twitched uncontrollably, as the scarabs sucked the creature's brain dry of information and knowledge. He silenced its moanings of pain with a quick stab of his staff, digging it into his spine. It stopped flailing. The mindshackle scarabs retreated from the holes in its skulls, and gave a metal chirp. He knelt down, extending his hand. The scarabs climbed up his hand, and went to his head. They dug in, and he started to download the information. For a minute he stood there, trying to process the information from the creature, known as a satyr. He adjusted his voicebox, a small charm that was embedded in his neck. None of the dregs of society deserved to speak, but some royals chose to not use them. He was not one of those royals, however. He had learned the local language most knew, as Common, in a few seconds. The mindshackle scarabs retreated back into their hive, and he tapped it appreciatively.

"Hello?" He said, in this so called Common. His voice was high pitched, sounding like a broken pariah. He toyed with his voice box for a good thirty seconds, getting it down to a frequency was comfortable. One that was low and deep, and menacing. He nodded, as he searched for the exit to his tomb. The Burning Legion would pay for pilfering his tomb, and for slaying his people, and they would pay the only way he would accept. By taking their lives.

/

Bluddflagg looked at the sun, squinting his eyes. It was nearly sunset. The three orks and one orc stood outside the capitol building, waiting for the Dark Ranger. A mix of emotions were shown on their faces. Zentar was excited to be on the move again. Mista Nailbrain was excited too, not for the trip, but to meet a fellow Mek. Spookums… Spookums was watching the city streets, and his eyes seemingly darted everywhere. He was watching something, or someone. Bluddflagg was worried, on the other hand. He didn't trust the pasty gits. Not for a single second. Sure, that could be said about anything not orky, but something about the Forsaken completely unnerved him. He didn't really know why. He could trust orc's although he was still disgusted by their weakness. Trolls and Taurens he could trust too. He hadn't seen too many Blood Elves, but the Forsaken…

"Kaptain Bluddflagg." A whispery voice said behind him, and he leaped back in surprise, nearly flattening Mista Nailbrain, who yelped in shock. A figure stood there, a small smirk on her face. She was dressed in a dark cowl, contrasting against her grey and pale flesh. Two red eyes looked at him through her hood. She looked nearly like Sylvanas, except a bit shorter.

"Kapn, I was surprised ya didn't see her before." Spookums said, a grin on his face. Bluddflagg snapped his gaze towards the Kommando Nob.

"Da zog does dat mean?" He growled. Spookums merely let out a chuckle.

"I was watchin dis one for awhile, Kapn." He chuckled, sticking out a hand. The Dark Ranger smiled back, taking it, even though Spookums was still bulkier than her. It was rather easy to earn Spookums respect. Just be a sneaky bastard.

"Oize Spookums. Kommando Nob." He said, introducing himself. The Dark Ranger nodded.

"I am Clea Deathstrider. Dark Ranger of the Forsaken." She said. She glanced at Zentar, who bristled slightly under her gaze, before her eyes settled on Mista Nailbrain. Mista Nailbrain seemed… excited? That was weird.

"Oize Mista Nailbrain." He said, greeting himself. Bluddflagg took a look down at his first mate. Sometimes, he wondered what was going on in his zogged up head.

"Formalities out of the way, we should get going as soon as possible." She said, as she started to walk down the road. The three orks shrugged, as they followed her. Zentar came after them, running.

"Oize likin dis one already. If dese Dark Ranger's be as sneaky as her, den I'm gunna have a lot of fun in dis place." He grinned savagely. Bluddflagg merely grunted.

"I dun trust dese Forsaken gits as far as you can throw em. In dat one's case, iz a bad example." He grumbled. He was shocked of how easy Spookums respected her. But respect wasn't the same thing as trust… right?

/

Klaus led them out of the stronghold, as the two rode once again to Ratchet. They agreed that it would be their next pitstop, and in addition, could provide flying access to a city close to Darnassus. Northwatch Hold had very little to offer, rather than the stray trading caravan. It had been enough though, to buy more rations for the trip to come. Water wasn't really an issue, but food was. This time, Lofn took the reigns, even though he was very reluctant to pass it over to her. He had to push down his pride for logic. She knows where to go (somehow), and can speed things along. But he still didn't trust her, especially after her intrusion in his privacy. Klaus decided to bring it up, just to see her squirm. He needed it right now.

"So Lofn, how was your morning?" He asked abruptly,startling her. She glanced partly at him, before back on the road.

"It was fine." Lofn mumbled.

"I hope it was fine, because for me, it was awful." He replied. He received another glance, the meaning obvious; explain.

"You see, when I woke up, I smelled awful. I decided to go cleanse myself and my uniform. As I was working and praying, I saw a pair of brown eyes peeking through the door." Klaus said, and Lofn turned, her face blushing.

"You wouldnt happen to know who that would be… right?" He asked teasingly. She sighed.

"List-" She began, before he cut her off.

"No, you listen here you damnable xeno. I tolerate your presence here, even if it is with great reluctance. What I will not tolerate, is your damn curiosity. I will no longer forgive you for any intrusion in my privacy. Ever. Are we clear?" He spat. She perked up at the mention of no longer.

"No longer?" She asked, confused. Klaus sighed. She was supposed to be smart. Why couldn't SHE, out of all people, understand what he meant.

"I blame myself fully for what happened. If I was not praying for forgiveness in my ability to do the emperor's most holy work, then I would have saw you before." He explained, and sighed, before looking at Lofn once again, who was rather surprised.

"You blame yourself?" She asked. Klaus bit back an insult, that he really wanted to use.

"Yes. It was my fault, and my doing, that you saw more than you deserved to see." Klaus explained once more.

"But do not think that I am letting this go." He added on. She sighed.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled. Klaus wasn't expecting that. Not at all.

"Apology accepted. With reluctance." He mumbled. He pointed to the road.

"Now get us to ratchet. I tire of this conversation."

/

The Necron Lord impaled the Satyr, smashing him into the Necrodermis wall. It's struggling stopped, as its body broke in half. The Necron Lord grabbed the Satyr's head, and started to drag its body to the exit door of the tomb. Now, he saw how the mortals got in. Something had completely destroyed the tomb sealing mechanism. Most likely a psyker. He stepped out of the tomb, and scanned the opposition. Twelve satyrs, ten felguard, three wrathguard, and a eredar warlock.

"Heed me, beasts. Heed me, and obey. You have killed my people, and pilfered our resting place. I will not stand for this. To those cravens who would dare to flee, go now. If not, then I shall slay you all." The Necron Lord said in his monotonous voice, flinging the dead satyrs body at the demons feet. A few satyrs ran for it, before they were killed by their demon masters.

"Enough! Kill it!" The warlock snarled. The satyrs charged first. He prepped the lightning field charm once again. As the satyrs leapt onto him, he was covered with bolts of lightning and electricity. They shot out, wrapping around the satyrs. They howled, as their insides were cooked by the vast amounts of electricity. They collapsed to the ground, sizzling corpses. The felguard attacked next, letting out a battle cry as they charged, levelling halberds, spears, and axes at him. He could not use his lightning field again. It needed to recharge. He leapt at the felguard, decapitating one. Its body fell to the ground, as the felguard surrounded him. The Necron Lord fired the gauss attachment to his staff. While a felguard was being flayed alive, he dodged a swing to his head, parried a stab to his chest, and blocked a swing to his chest. One felguard fell, two stepped back, their weapons completely destroyed.

"Is this all you have?" He taunted, getting the intended effect from the Felguard. They yelled obscenities at him, as they charged again. Just as Planned. He threw a handful of Mindshackle scarabs at the demons. They howled in anger, and then pain, as the Mindshackle Scarabs buried into their brains, ready for his command. _Kill the Demons_. The enslaved Felguards charged at the Wrathguard and Warlock. They were quickly dispatched of however, only one of the Wrathguard getting wounded.

"Enough! You shall die for your insolence!" The warlock howled, as suddenly, a tidal wave of flame came at him. He activated the phase shifter, and he quickly phased out of the material realm, leaving a ghostly apparition behind. The wall of flame past through him, and he shifted back into the material realm. The warlock was infuriated.

"You mortal whelp! None can stand against my power!" He growled, as he fired massive rocks, covered in smoldering flame. He dodged two, but one hit him square in the chest. His arms disconnected from his body in a flurry of sparks. His staff of light fell to the ground. Normally, most warriors would have screamed in pain, but Necrons were different. He sent a telepathic command to his arms. His free arm crawled to him first. It got into position, as the Necrodermis knitted together, helped with the nano scarabs in the Phylactery charm. He grabbed his other arm, which still had the staff of light, and shoved it back into its spot, the nano scarabs stitched the metal back together. The spider like robots retreated into the charm.

"What undead monstrosity are you?" The warlock growled, seething in rage.

"I am no Undead. I am a Necron. I will flay each and every one of you single demons, for killing my servants, and for vengeance." The Necron Lord snapped back. He fired the gauss attachment. The three wrathguard, still completely shocked of how their target literally put itself back together screamed in pain, as they were flayed alive. The warlock merely sneered, as a demonic sword appeared in his hand. He held it two handed.

"No matter, Necron. I shall wipe you and with you, your race off of the face of this earth." He growled, but then his face softened a little bit.

"Pity… you have so much power… you could have served us well." He smiled evilly. The Necron Lord was about to charge, when a purple bolt of energy whizzed past him, embedding itself in its mighty chestpiece. It snarled in anger and surprise. The Necron Lord peeked over his shoulder, to see a creature stand there. It was dressed in scantily, revealing clothes, on a muscular, and purple body. She had a bow in one hand, and the other hand was drawing an arrow from a quiver. The Necron Lord took a quick scan of the alien, and compared it to his databanks. Kaldorei. Night elf. Enemy of the Burning Legion. It would be enough for him.

"He shall not stand alone, demon. If you want to fight him, then you will fight us." She snapped. At this, The Necron Lord took a quick look around. A group of these kaldorei stood, all pointed weapons at him. The Necron Lord felt a tange of respect. Even though many thought Necrons to be killing machines, it simply depended on the Necron. He respected, and valued courage and respect. Anything that stood against a demon, especially a greater one, like the one in front of him, he respected.

"Pitiful Night Elves… step aside. This quarrel is between me and… IT." The warlock spat, pointing a finger at the Necron Lord. The kaldorei responded by unloading a barrage of arrows at it. It howled in anger, as the arrows pinged off of its armor, or dug into its flesh. It howled, and let out a foul battlecry as it charged. The Necron Lord calmly walked forward, firing the gauss attachment. It howled in surprise, as its armor began to disappear in front of its own eyes. It could not slow its charge, and it hurtled past him, but not before he shoved his staff out. The staff dug into its ankle, nearly severing its foot off, completely. It smashed into the outcrops of rock surrounding the tomb headfirst. It groaned, as it tried to pull itself up. He came forward slowly, smiling to himself of the shocked and awed faces of the kaldorei. Typical of mortals to gape in his accomplishments. Was he a crueler necron lord, they would have made fine slaves.

"H- H-How?" The warlock muttered, as the Necron Lord grabbed one of its dreadlocks, lifting its head up. He dropped it, as he sent a command to the mindshackle scarabs.

"You underestimate me, demon. It shall be the last mistake of your life." He said coldly, as the scarabs crawled onto his hands. The demon spotted the scarabs, and tried to get up. He threw the mindshackle scarabs. It howled, as the scarabs dug into its skull.

"Now, demon. Tell me… everything."

Review Time!

BNG1911: Although it would be cool, Rakszan is a phaeron, and not a lord.

Rogue50: Technically, all death korps soldiers are broken, or insane. So, he has already gone insane

Panzer Hunter: Not all dynasties share these traits. Although lower necrons certainly do.

Tenash: For me to know, and for you to find out :)

King Rocket: For me to know, and for you to find out

rc48177: Pretty nice suggestion dude!

Commisar Carl: Unlikely, and thank you!


	18. Chapter 18: Questions

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!  
Sorry I couldnt upload a chapter yesterday, had some stuff to attend to.

Anyways, Hope you can enjoy!

Lofn looked into the campfire, forcing her to not fall asleep. She was waiting for Klaus to fall asleep first. She nearly had forgotten that she… 'stole' his journal, and now that he wouldn't forgive any intrusions to his privacy, she wasn't taking any chances. However, it was rather difficult to check if he was actually sleeping, especially with the damn mask. She looked at the mask with an annoyed glance. That damn mask and helmet had been a serious obstacle to overcome. It was hard to talk to someone when you couldn't even see their face. Or their head, for that matter. Her ears perked up, when he let out a light snore. He did sometimes snore. At this, she slowly reached into her robes, taking out the journal. She brushed off some of the stuff that had accumulated on the journal's cover. She opened it, and was greeted by a prayer, written in black ink. A pen was also kept here in a small restraint.

"Imperator defendit, sed solum apud illos qui in fide." She read softly, taking a glance at Klaus, who merely shifted his arm. She flipped through the first page. Their was a fellow Korpsmen, making a crisp salute. Lofn had to admit, he was a pretty good drawer. It looked almost lifelike. How long she stood in that pose, she did not know.

Underneath that, was a caption that said. '435612-983610 'Karen', a good friend, and a better shot.' Lofn smiled a little bit, but she felt something burning inside her… was she… was she jealous? She paused. If she didn't want to wake Klaus, she would have been laughing hysterically. Why would she be jealous? Klaus was the most meanest, rudest, and downright coldest person she had ever met. Why, in the craftworlds name, would she be jealous? Did she… Did she like him? She glanced back at the sleeping Klaus, who was shifting in his sleep. She couldn't answer that question. She sighed, as she kept flipping through the journal. There were more and more pictures. Some were of different Imperial Guard regiments, and she recognised a few that her father told her about. Vostroyan Firstborn, in their cossack themed uniforms. Cadian Stormtroopers, fighting in the trenches. A Harakoni Warhawk, soaring into the sky. Some were of his enemies. She paused, as she looked at the picture of a Tyranid Warrior, snarling. It was dueling with a Commissar, said Commissar wielding a bolt pistol and power saber.

Underneath it, was a caption that said 'Tyranid Warrior. A worthy foe.' She looked back at Klaus again, and sighed. Maybe she did like him, but she pushed this thought out of her head. They were acquaintances, not even friends. Why would she like him? She kept flipping and flipping, and then she stopped. Halfway through the journal, It was her. She looked like a complete idiot in her eyes, as she sat, leaning on a rock. She was surrounded by grass and weeds, along with a few flowers. Their was a caption underneath her, that said 'Lofn. Proof that Eldar and Human hybrids exist.'. She felt a slight tinge of warmth in her cheeks, and she told herself that it was the fire. She flipped the page, and there she was again. This time, it was of her, sitting by a stream, looking at her runes of fate. She wondered idly, how long Klaus was watching her, and drawing her. Their was another caption, that said 'Lofn using her runes.' She flipped the page again, but was disappointed that their were no more pictures. She looked at Klaus, again, and sighed. Maybe she did like him.

/

Clea Deathstrider continued to observe the orcs, even as they slept. She had to admit, these orcs deserved the Dark Ladies attention, and more. They were so… unique. First off, their leader was bigger than a tauren, and unlike others, who would mock, or even tease her for being undead, being female, or basically anything not making her a greenskin savage, he could have cared less. She did sense suspicion coming off of him like sweat, but that was understandable. He was clearly new to the concept of being around undead, and she couldn't really blame him.

The mek, Mista Nailbrain, if she remembered, was the brains of the group. That much was simple. He had been working on something before he fell asleep, and it certainly was impressive. It was a strange three pronged totem, that shot out bolts of golden lightning. Being Forsaken, she could no longer sense magic like other elves could. But she knew whatever he was making, it wasn't magic. It didn't look Fel, Arcane, Shamanistic… She didn't know what to think of.

But the one that took the cake, was Spookums. Strangely, out of all four of the orcs (She chose to disregard the only female. She was just a normal orc.) He was the only one that was friendly to her. He seemed to be in a similar craft, of being a rogue. Strange, seeing his massive size, although not as large as the Kaptain. He was the only one who was not asleep. He was always watching her, no matter what she did. Others would dismiss it as being a creep, but she knew better. He respected her, but respect was not the same thing as trust. As so, he always kept an eye on her. He truly was a rogue, of good skill too. He showed the characteristics of a skilled rogue. His stance was always ready for a fight. He was aware at all times, keeping an eye on everything. He kept a close eye on those he didn't trust. His hands were always in reach of his weapons. He wasn't arrogant, and if he was, he didn't show it, as another weakness to exploit. His footsteps were always quiet and thought out. Every movement, and every action he did, he fully committed to it. She wondered idly where he got his training. Maybe he was self taught? She knew the plan however. She would accompany the orcs to Ratchet, to find their human. However, that wasn't it, not by a long shot. Sylvanas had wondered what human would warrant such a unique quarry, and as so, Clea would follow them to the end. But when they finally got into position, she would strike, and deliver her prize to the undercity. She smiled, thinking of all of the blessings and praises she would get, if hershe followed the plan, if the plan were to succeed. But for now, she was intent on patiently waiting. She looked over at Spookums, still glaring at her, and smiled a bit. Maybe she would spare him. But that was a maybe.

/

The Necron lord looked at the assembled Kaldorei, and was wondering what was wrong with him. He should have killed them all, or enslaved them to his will by now. But something was making him not do it. He shook his metalic head, clearing his thoughts.

 _I wonder who's doing that._ A voice whispered. His eyes darted to the shard, still hidden within the cloth cloak that he had stole from a satyr.

 _The shard communes with me? This is new_ … He thought idly.

 _That's not all partner. Not only can I talk, i'm giving your coding suggestions. I'm the reason that you haven't killed these ladies yet._ It responded back. The Necron Lord was surprised. The Nightbringer was a being happy to kill everything. It was not known, to have pleasant conversations.

 _You can't be the Nightbringer… Surely, this a jest, and merely a virus in my coding._ He replied back. He looked at the kaldorei, who were still shell shocked. Sure, he might have taken things a bit too far when he made the eredar warlock peel off his own skin with his hands, but it was the heat of the moment.

 _I am the Nightbringer. Well, a part of him at least. You Necrons know me as an insane killer, hell bent on bringing the night. To be honest, you wouldn't be wrong. Many shards show this personality. However, you must remember, I am a god, but all gods do not only show one trait. Take that fat pus bag Nurgle, for example. Sure, he's the god of death, and decay, but he's also a jolly rotten piece of meat. The roidrage Khorne, the god of bloodshed and war, is also a god of honor, and honesty. That sleazy perv Slaanesh, the god/goddess of pleasure and hentai, but also the god/goddess of other sensations, like pain. All gods show more than one trait, and these are small parts of their collective._ The shard replied. The Necron Lord would laugh if he could. Well he could, he just didn't want to scare these poor mortals even more then he should.

 _And what part of the Nightbringer are you?_ The Necron Lord asked.

 _I am the part of the Nightbringer that likes to humor, and toy with his victims before I give them the blessing of death with the scythe._ The shard responded. The Necron Lord groaned on the inside. He would have preferred the batshit insane version of the Nightbringer then this one.

 _Enough of this. I must speak to these mortals. I must find a better place to hide you._ The Necron Lord snapped, silencing the shard.

"Greetings Mortals." He said, his low and metallic voice getting their attention.

"Greetings… What would your name be?" One of the Kaldorei asked. The Necron Lord paused. Did he have a name? Surely he did, but he couldn't remember. He would have to ask a maintenance check from the nano scarabs later.

"I… I can no longer remember…" He muttered, getting a few surprised looks.

"But that is not important. I must hide something of great power, from the prying hands of thieves." He added on, taking out the shard from his cloak. It was small and durable, yet he held it like a child. Because if he dropped said child, or squeezed to hard, said child would kill everything in a five mile radius.

"And why is it so powerful?" She asked again, as she waved to the others, as they started to dig holes into the ground. To bury the fallen, perhaps.

"It houses a great evil, that this tomb can no longer contain." he said, gesturing to the ruined Necron tomb. He looked back to the kaldorei, gently putting the shard back into his cloak.

"That can be arranged. But first, would you like to head back to Darnassus? Surely, someone who single handedly slayed an entire warband of demons and satyrs, would be seen as a hero, regardless of race? " She asked. He twitched, making a few whirring noises. He was wondering why he didn't kill her already. Maybe it was the shards doing.

"Who do I call you by?" He asked her. She bowed her head slightly. Good. It was good when mortals knew royalty when they saw it.

"I am Thelinda Mosswing, Lord of Metal. I am a sentinel commander of the kaldorei, or known to others, as the night elves." He chuckled at this. Lord of Metal was something he could get used to. Sounded better then just Necron Lord.

 _I'm likin these girls already… You should totally release me to show what they are dealing with..._ The shard laughed huskily.

 _Can it!_ The Necron Lord snapped back, followed by the laughter of the shard. He looked back at Thelinda. He didn't have too many choices. He simply couldn't bury the shard into the ground, and he knew nothing of the place he was in. So it was with great reluctance, he agreed.

"Very well. I expect to leave as soon as possible. The sooner I hide the shard, the better." He said. She nodded, helping the night elves, as they started to drag bodies back into a large hole they had made. He looked back at the tomb, and sighed. The weight of his servants were on his shoulders now. He could not fail them. Maybe when he hid the shard, he would join them in his slumber.

/

Klaus peered into the yellow grasslands, or as the map called it, the barrens. The sun was unbearable, and even he knew that they would not last long. They had to find shade, and water, lest they risk of overheating.

"Lofn, we must find an oasis, or shade of some kind. Can you see one?" He asked, as she partly turned her head.

"Ill try." She said, as she looked back. The air felt slightly colder, and thin tendrils of energy came from her face. After a few seconds, the air returned back to its temperature.

"There is an oasis not far from here. A five minute run to the west, though it will lead us off the trail." She said. Klaus shrugged.

"An acceptable trade. Now let us move." He said, as she lead Ketzer in the direction she pointed to. In a few minutes, they had come across the oasis. But as they lead Ketzer down, Klaus noticed something wrong. Their was a battle going on. A group of tauren, if he remembered correctly, were being attacked by a group of horse and human hybrids. Centaurs, if he remembered. He took out his lasgun, and fired at the centaurs. One of them howled, as one of its legs were torn apart. It landed to the ground, howling, as the centaurs turned to their advesaries.

"Fight them off! Pink Skins have come to save us!" One of the tauren laughed, as they warded off the centaurs with heavy axes and halberds, and what even appeared to be totems. Lofn let out bolts of psychic energy, killing two more centaur. Three of the centaur charged at her. She drew her witchblade, and leaped into the fray, with inhuman agility. Klaus took out his chainsword, as a centaur charged at him. He leaped out of the way as the centaur charged, its axe blade slicing into the carapace armor chestpiece, leaving a nick in the armor. He growled, as the centaur came again. He swung the chainsword, and the chainsword dug itself deep in its chest. It howled, as the chainsword eviscerated muscle and rib cage brutally. It fell to the ground, and Klaus stomped on its head with his prosthetic. The skull caved in, and he felt blood splatter his gasmask. Lofn meanwhile, was in the the middle of a hurricane of violence. She was constantly on the move, dodging blows that would have killed others thrice over. The centaur's howled in anger as their quarry continued to dodge their moves. Her blade became enchanted with witchfire, and blue energy came from Lofn's eyes, as she swung her witchblade. A centaur howled, as a large line on its chest was drawn, and then it was covered in warpfire. It howled, as its skin peeled and burned off, the blue and purplish warpfire scorching its bones. The two centaur paused, but it was enough, as Lofn decapitated one, and flung the other into a tree, breaking its spine. Realising that the tides were not in their favor, A centaur yelled something out, and the remnants of the warband retreated. Klaus shook his chainsword of blood, sheathing the chainsword, he held the lasgun tight, as the few tauren came over. They were as tall as space marines, these massive cowmen, bulging with muscles. However, he could already pinpoint several weaknesses in its defences.

"We thank you Pink Skin. If it was not for you and your friends efforts, we would have surely perished." One of the tauren said, kneeling down to get to eye level. Klaus himself was around 6'1, while Lofn was around 5'9.

"Your thanks is not needed. We only came here to cool off." He all but growled. Lofn came over and sighed, the warpfire from her eyes now gone.

"Don't mind him. He's such a hardass." She laughed, throwing an arm over his shoulder, to which he flinched. Although he didn't want to admit it, Lofn was admirably better at talking to others then he was. She had mentioned earlier that he would have to work on his 'people skills'. The tauren nodded, hefting its massive wooden totem to his beefy (pun not intended) shoulder.

"We thank you once again. We shall be on our way." He said once again, rising up. The other tauren began to drag the bodies of the centaurs away, and Klaus watched them, as they began to dig graves for the centaur, before gently lowering them down to the holes. They made quick prayers to whatever deity they worshipped, before they left. Klaus crawled back down into the ditch in where the oasis was, and sighed. He took off his helmet, and gasmask. He rolled his backpack off of his shoulders, and began to slowly take off his greatcoat, getting a surprised glance from Lofn.

"What are you doing?" She demanded, as she wiped her Witchblade clean of blood. To answer, he rolled the greatcoat off, keeping it folded, before he waded into the crystal clear waters.

"I am cooling myself off, xeno. What are you doing?" He asked, as he began to go further and further into the cooling pool. He took a deep sigh, as he stopped, and sat down, the water coming up to his collarbone. He dipped his head into the water, wetting his hair. He sat there for a good ten minutes, until he came out, while Lofn was consulting with her runes. Suddenly, she perked her head up, her pointed ears twitching.

"Someones coming." She said. Klaus cursed himself, as he quickly put on his greatcoat and helmet, slipping on his gasmask. He took out his Lasgun, sliding in a new powercell, and looked around.

"Where?" he demanded, as she drew her witchblade.

"A large group of horde soldiers. Twenty. Heading to the oasis. Klaus, I don't think we can take them." She said, and Klaus cursed. Neither of them had the energy, and possibly skill, to ward them off, and as much as he would like to have a last stand, he would have to stay alive.

"Can't you use your witchcraft?" He asked, and she shook her head.

"The warp is a fickle thing here. I'm a farseer, not a warlock." She said, and by now, Klaus was cursing a storm.

"Then we must confront them. If it gets bad, we fight them." He said, as cranked up the strength of his lasgun from low to medium.

"Here they come…" She mumbled, slipping on her helmet, the red lenses lighting up, as a group of orcs, trolls, and a few blood elves came down to the pool. Noticing the two strange figures, they drew their weapons. Luckily, due to their wargear, they could not be easily identified as any race.

"Halt! Who goes there?" One orc demanded, hefting a two handed warhammer, dressed in furs and steel.

"We wish you no harm. We merely came here to cool off." the ever optimistic Lofn said, lowering her weapon.

 _Lower your weapon. Let me do the talking. Ill signal the attack_ he heard her say in his mind, and he twitched. It had been a while since a xeno had been in his mind, but he reluctantly lowered his Lasgun.

"That does not explain who you are." The orc snarled back. Lofn slowly took off her helmet. As the horde soldiers got a look at her face, they became angry, but got a few curious looks from the blood elves.

"A half elf? What are you doing here so far in horde territory?" He growled. Klaus would shove his chainsword down his throat if he said how much he admired Lofn for her calmness, and ability to keep it cool.

"We merely came to cool off. We were heading to Ratchet." She said once again.

"Ratchet huh?" One of the blood elves said, coming forward. She had a lithe and civil form, dressed in plated armor, carrying a sword and shield. Klaus was thankful at least some women in this realm did not dress like sluts. The orcs and trolls reluctantly lowered their weapon, as the warrior stepped forward. She had authority over these savages.

"Why do you head to Ratchet then?" She asked her. Lofn took a quick glance at Klaus, before back at the blood elf.

"We are heading their to meet up with a friend." Lofn said. Then, the blood elf looked at Klaus. Klaus tried to keep himself from pulling the trigger of his Lasgun. She came back to the orcs and trolls.

"No need for hostilities here. They are merely meeting up with a friend." She said, and Lofn took a deep breath. He realised what was happening. The Blood Elf was giving them an opportunity to escape.

 _Let's leave._ She said to him, and he couldn't agree more.

Review Time

Grey Knight Paladin: I shall! And thank you!

Panzer Hunter: Well the phylactery is just a charm fulled to the brim with nanoscarabs, so technically, he could. But Gauss weapon is not used like that. Gauss weapon disassembles the molecules of the target down to the atom. It is not designed to cut through flesh, but more like peeling it off.

Commisar Carl: Well, said Grenadier had silver eyes, not emerald, but at least someone got it.

Rc48177 friend: I owe you a good laugh. It is a possibility, one that im not sure whether I should pursue in detail or not.


	19. Chapter 19: Deepest Desires

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!

Sorry this is coming out a bit late, but had a lot of cleaning to do.

Anyways, hope you can enjoy!

Ork Meks were always obsessed about learning new information. They had a knack for making inventions that could make things more killy, but they weren't restricted by this. The warboss normally dictated what the Meks would make, whether it be a shiny new trophy rack, or some more bits of scrap for his armor, Meks were forced to make things for the boss. But a Mek with no leash was a dangerous Mek, because without a leash, a Mek could bite something that he couldn't hope to chew.

"Roise and shoine ya gits! Ta Ratchet we go!" Bluddflagg roared, and Mista Nailbrain groaned, rubbing his throbbing head. He felt like he drank a whole barrel of fungus beer. He looked at the Dark Ranger, who was stretching taut muscles. She caught his eye, and gave a quick grin, as she gave him a tantalizing look at her figure, but he didn't even notice this, or care. He was fascinated by these Forsaken. How bodies could rise and become living once more completely enthralled him. No one had control of corpses in Ork territory. Their was only so much an ork could rule, but if he figured out how to raise the dead, and make them serve him, he would be the most powerful ork to ever live! He grinned, thinking of all of the inventions he could do with his own army of undead marching at his command. While they were traveling, he would ask how this happened. Nothing he couldn't make, and nothing he couldn't fix.

"Oi! Pasty git! Which way?" Bluddflagg demanded. She gave a quick wink to Mista Nailbrain, before looking up at the kaptain.

"Follow me." She said simply, as she walked away. Bluddflagg mumbled something under his breath, as the orks followed her. He grinned, as he powered up the teleporta. Nothing would get in his way to learn these secrets. He powered up the gitfinda, a combination of looted auto senses from Space Marine helmets, tactical cogitators, and computer bits, and selected his destination. He disappeared in a burst of golden lightning, and then right next to her. She jumped, and he cackled.

"So you are a mage! I was wondering." She said, putting a small smirk on her face. He frowned at this.

"Mage? Ya kallin me a weird un?" He asked. She could see the distaste on his face, and shrugged.

"Druid then?" She asked, and he shook his head violently. Was she not the guide, and an ork, he would have shot her already.

"I ain't no Weird Un! I made dis stuff by myself!" He growled. Her eyes widened in surprise. She looked at the force fields energy prongs with shocked eyes, her red eyes looking over the force field, and then the Mek.

"You mean you made this? You made something that can make you blink short distances?" She said. He grinned, and nodded. At least someone appreciated his intellect.

"Dis is nuffin! If I had me sum more gubbins and some more Meks, we could make Stompas!" He grinned. She paused, looking at the insane Mek.

"Stompas?" She asked in confusion, and interest. He grinned even more,

"Stompas be dese large walkas! Dey is massive! Stompas can be foive times as big as da Kaptain, or more! Dey can be kustomised with killy bits, ta make dem gud at stompin or gud at dakka!" He cackled, and he could only imagine the thoughts running through the Dark Rangers mind, but she only gave a small smile, showing pearly white teeth. yet another mystery Mista Nailbrain wanted to solve. Why were these undead in good condition?

"Interesting…" She smiled. Now the Mek rubbed his greasy paws together. Time to get some answers of his own.

"Now I'm gunna ask ya sumfing. How are ya pasty gits made?" He asked, keeping a mental note to jot this down. She paused for a few moments, as if contemplating an answer, then replied.

"We forsaken were once living beings like you. But we were killed by the scourge, and reanimated into the living dead. However, some of us managed to pry our free will from that bastard, The Lich King. Now we live our second lives in the distrust of others, being thought of as monstrosities." She said sadly. Mista Nailbrain was shocked. How could they get so much bad treatment?

"Monstrosities? Yooze a zoggin miracle!" He said. This caught her by surprise.

"Really?" she said, a bit of happiness in her voice.

"I meen every word! Ya's a walkin korpse! Dats a bloody miracle! If only dere wuld be a way to foind out how to do it." He cackled. This earned him a glare from the Dark Ranger, and realised he hit a nerve.

"It's a painful process. No one deserves to be risen from the dead. Necromancy is a reviled art all around." She said quickly. He wisely backed off, but this didn't squash his hopes however. It would only be a matter of time. Maybe he couldn't be a weird un, but he could make something, that would manipulate Necromancy. Their was nothing he couldn't make, and nothing he couldn't fix.

/

The Necron Lord looked at the massive treefort, known as the world tree, and wondered idly how many gauss shots it would take to get to the center of a world tree. The trip had been rather short, and only had been a few hours walk, and the strange experience of flying that… whatever it was. That, and the kaldorei were rather quick, and he was more then able to catch up with his teleporting charm. Thelinda accompanied him, as they entered a temple, called the Temple of the Moon. The Necron Lord had earned more than enough of some curious glances, but as he entered deeper into the city, known as Darnassus, he had earned quite a reputation. Rumor had spread fast about his accomplishments, and some had bowed their heads respectfully as he came by. These mortals would be fine servants indeed, and he checked to make sure that the mindshackle scarabs were kept at a healthy number. He would need them.

"Tyrande Whisperwind waits for you on the other side of this door." Thelinda said, as they came across a wooden door.

"Very well. I shall enter now. You may accompany yourself… with whatever task you were doing previously." He said, as he entered the small room, closing it behind him. Inside, was Tyrande Whisperwind, the so called 'High Priestess' of the night elf people. She was dressed in a stunning white gown, sewn from materials that he could not match in his database. Her hair was well done, braids of grass sewn through her blue hair, and her soft white eyes looked at him, examining him. He still had his staff of light, though it had been cleaned of gore. Nano Scarabs still scuttled over him, doing his maintenance check. He got a dubois glance from her at the scarabs, and at his command, they retreated back into the Phylactery. He took a deep, false breath. Diplomacy was something that he was not good at. Necron Lords were sentient yes, but they did not have as much freedom as Overlords. But, he had shown a good amount of it. Yet again, he wondered if this was the shard's doing. So far, said shard

 _Shes looking fine…_ The shard whispered, and The Necron Lord glanced at the shard again, before back at Tyrande.

"Lord of Metal." She said softly, though her voice was filled with power and authority. He nodded his head.

"High Priestess." He replied back. She gave a small smile.

"Their is no need for that. On behalf of our people, we thank you for your courageous deeds. Had you not intervened, I fear that the Demons would have done far more damage then what happened." She said, thanking him. The Necron Lord snorted, a grinding noise coming from his throat. That was an understatement.

"Your thanks is not needed. I merely slayed those demons for pilfering my tomb, and to protect an object of great power." The Necron Lord said. And with this, she responded with a question, that he could not answer simply.

"What are you, Lord of Metal?" She asked. He thought about it for a moment. Did she really deserve to hear his story, and of the Necrontyr in general? Did it matter, was the important part. Not now. He had much more important things to do.

"That will be answered in due time, Whisperwind. However, I must put petty questions aside for something far more important." He said, earning a tiny scowl, that most could not detect. He reached into his cloak, and carefully took out the shard.

"This is a shard, of a creature known as the Nightbringer. It is a vastly destructive and powerful being, and if it is broken, or used incorrectly, it will release him. Untold devastation and destruction will be wreathed upon you, on any living things. I must hide him in the most well guarded and protected tomb possible." He said, showing it off, very carefully, before slipping it back into his cloak.

"This can be arranged. But first, you will answer my questions, and I will answer any of yours." She said. The Necron Lord would scowl if he could.

"So I will ask you again. What are you?" She said. The Necron Lord sighed, and started pacing around the room.

"I will be honest to you, Tyrande. I am not a good person." He said flatly, getting a confused look from Tyrande.

"None of the Necrons are. We are the best example of what happens, when a person becomes so enthralled in a burning hatred for others, that we do things… that we would regret. We are evil, but only because of the one thing we wanted the most." He said, turning partly to glare at her with one green eye. He turned, slightly tapping his chest.

"Immortality." he said. The look on her face was as clear as daylight. Explain.

"We Necrons were once known as Necrontyr. We lived on… in a… realm… very far away from here." He said, to simplify things, before he continued.

"Our lives were in constant pain and suffering. Our sun was a cancerous thing. It let off such powerful waves of harmful… magic, that we had short life times, and it was filled with suffering. But despite the odds, we survived, and we expanded out of our territory, though we still had incredibly short life times." He said, taking a short pause.

"Then, we encountered creatures known as the Old Ones. They were immortal, and lived far better lives than we did. Our jealousy took over, and we waged war against them. We failed. Miserably. Our emotions took control, and we started to hate the Old Ones and all of their creations. We one day found ancient beings, known as the C'tan. They were powerful beings, and we granted them bodies of metal. We worshipped them like gods. And one day, the C'tan offered us something that we couldn't refuse. Immortality. A body that would no longer be harmed by our cancerous sun, A body that could no longer be harmed from age." He said, gesturing to his Necrodermis body, but then he sighed.

"We accepted the offer. We cast aside our frail and fleshy bodies, and inhabited these metal bodies, that would soon be our tombs. We were happy at first. No longer would we live short lives! No longer would be harmed by disease, and hunger! But the true consequences of the transfer… were something we could never foresee… and could never forget..." He said, drifting off slowly. He struggled to find the words to continue, but Tyrande interrupted him.

"If you do not wish to share what happened next, that is fine. I only wished to know a bit of our guest." She said, rising up.

"My backstory is not important. I must hide the shard." He said. She nodded.

"This can be arranged, though it will take time." She said, and he couldn't help himself, as he snarled.

"I must hide it as soon as possible. The sooner it is away from the prying hands of thieves, the better. But since I know very little of this… realm… I shall remain here, until we can reach an accord. However, I do encourage that I remain isolated from any others… we would not like to have any… accidents." He elaborated, and she nodded.

"Very well. You came here with Thelinda Mosswing, correct?" She asked, and he nodded.

"This is correct." He said, and she smiled.

"Then she shall be your companion until you leave. To make sure that their aren't any… accidents."

/

Lofn wiped her forehead of sweat. It was so damn hot out here, that even to her surprise, that Klaus had taken off his helmet and gasmask, though still keeping his greatcoat on. She wondered how badly he was sweating, most likely drenched in sweat. She had to get her mind off of the heat, and the slowly encroaching boredom, anything really. So she dared to do something that she had not done yet. Ask questions.

"So Klaus… how is life in the Death Korps?" She asked. She didn't even have to turn around to see the look of surprise on his face. She could practically hear his eyes narrow a few seconds later. She had expected that.

"What's it to you, Lofn?" He growled. She sighed, partly look at him. He wasnt calling her Xeno as much, which was a relief. Or abomination. She was getting somewhere at least.

"Because, it's nearly 90 degrees, I'm sweating buckets, and I'm bored. What's it to YOU?" She snapped. She regretted it immediately, and she expected his words to lash against her skin, but to her complete surprise, he chuckled.

"If you are going to be so persistent then..." He said, before clearing his throat.

"If you so eagerly wish to know about the Death Korps, then we shall have an exchange of information. How does that sound?" He added on. She nodded. She just wanted to get her mind off of the heat, and the boredom.

"The Death Korp life is simple. Go onto to the battlefield, kill the enemy, die if necessary. Your turn." He stated. Lofn sighed.

"I mean, like what else do you do rather than wage war? Don't you have times of peace?" She asked, and to this, he merely laughed.

"You really are childish. Their is no peace. Merely a time of rearmament and training for the next battle. I would expect this from your craftworld, no?" He asked. She narrowed her eyes.

"How do you know about our craftworlds?" She demanded.

"During my time, Me and a squad were assigned to protect a inquisitor as a personal bodyguard until he was deemed safe. Not the most practical use of Korpsmen, but it was something. The inquisitor was a talkative one, and talked quite a lot about eldar. Apparently, he even stepped on a craftworld."He snorted. He looked at Lofn, and smiled a little bit.

"I wanted to shoot him for heresy, but orders were orders. No matter how much you detest them, you do it." He said. She kept this in mind. Maybe one day she could use that to her advantage. She shook the thought out of her head. She wasnt a scheming person, unlike so many of her craft.

"Alright, you win. I guess I'll tell you about the craftworlds." She sighed. He merely snorted.

"I didn't know I would win for answering your questions. But very well. Proceed. Might as well check this off on my heresy bucket list." He said. She let out a soft laugh.

"You know, you're not really that bad." She smiled. He merely sighed.

"And you know, you can really be a frakking pain in the neck." He said with a straight face, though she could see the smallest smile tugging at his lips. He had slowly been lightening up to her presence. Slowly, but slowly was good enough.

"So what do we plan to do when we get to ratchet?" She asked him. He paused, thinking of an answer. For a few moments, they were silent.

"Anything?" She asked.

"I have a plan. But first you will answer my questions, as part of our information exchange." He said. She sighed. Sometimes, he could really be a pain in the ass.

"Fine… what do you want to know?" She mumbled. She could already imagine his questions. What's weaponry like? How does it feel to be inferior?  
"What is civilian life like?" He asked. She paused. She certainly had not expected that.

"Why do you ask?" She probed.

"Because when we are successful in our goal, to the emperor's orders, I must remain alive, to be its eternal guardian. As so, I am expecting to live life as a civilian. I need to know what it's like." He elaborated. She thought about it for a moment.

"Well, it's not much. You sit in a house, keep it tidy. You occasionally eat, or get visitors. If you have a job, you do it. That's it really." She said, keeping it short and sweet. He frowned.

"Then I will not enjoy civilian life." He sighed. She waited for his next question. It did not come.

"Aren't you going to ask another question?" She asked. He shook his head.

"Not necessary." He grumbled. She looked him in the eyes for a few moments. He caught the glare, and looked at her in return.

"Why do you have such strong blue eyes?" she blurted out, and she slightly covered his eyes. He smiled a little bit.

"A rare mutation during the cloning process. You must remember how effective our cloning machines are. They considered dumping me, but when they found out it was only just a different eye color, they kept me." He explained.

"So what's normal eye color for Korpsmen?" She asked. Klaus gave her a glare.

"Why do you want to know?" He demanded. She shrugged.

"Just wondering." She admitted. He glared at her some more, before looking back out the barrens.

"Grey." He stated simply, ending the conversation. She sighed. She looked back out into the plains. They still had a while to go.

Review Time

Ultimax999: This was something I noticed a bit too late. Not too much of a problem, as I will flesh him out more as time goes on.

BNG1911: This was intended, as per comedy reasons. And anyways, all of the gods are assholes, some (*cough* Slaanesh *cough* **)** in more ways then one.

MetalGearMantis: I find it strange that the readers are able to pinpoint these things better then I can :P. But silly things aside, I thank you. It is rare that I get criticism from fellow authors. I am happy that people enjoy my work, as for me, it is merely something to kill time with. Im not gonna spoil anything about how he becomes the Eternal Guardian ;). And although I dont have intentions for Klaus to get a harem, it is a possibility.

Rc48177: It is fine, and it is a possibility.

BluePanedGasMask: Its actually not hard to make chapters like these. Its rather simple. Each Chapter I write is usually around 3000 words. Just put on your favorite band or genre of music (My favorite bands, are Metallica and Artic Monkeys.) and then sit back and write.

Panzer Hunter: It is fine. Im not too sure about adding Tau, as Tau and Orks dont go together that well, but its a possibility.


	20. Chapter 20: To Consult

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH here!

So here we are!

In one month, we have 20 chapters, over 60k words, over 80 reviews, over 20 favorites, and 30 follows.

Not much compared to others, but its something!

Thank you guys so much!

Lets see where we get too next month!  
Anyways, hope you enjoy!

The Necron Lord sat down on the small bed. Being comfortable was an emotion lost a long time ago, along with a majority of sensations. Very few sensations remained, but many emotions still remained. And right now, he was worried. He took out the shard, still glowing brightly in his hand, a swirling vortex of silver and grey energy against its crystalline surface. He knew what he was going to do, and he was slowly wondering how he would approach this. He had sent Thelinda away, saying that he required meditation. He partly did.

 _Speak to me Shard. I know you still linger._ He commanded.

 _What does my owner wish of me?_ The shard asked, sarcasm in its voice. The Necron Lord did not sense this sarcasm of course.

 _I think you know how I got here. And I think you have some explaining to do._ He snapped back. The shard was quiet for a moment.

 _If you're so eager to know, then I will share it with you. You see here, Necron. Around the time when you fucked us over, one Cryptek had discovered this realm, parallel to our own. I assume that you know of the warp, which is the alternate reality to our own, where emotions become 'living things'. Eager to escape his doom from the creations of the Old Ones, the local Necron Lord lead his people through the realm, and destroyed the portal behind him. This was shortly after I got my ass blown up, and my essence got broken up into shards. You, took me with you._ It replied. The Necron Lord gasped inwardly. HE was the one who took a shard of the Nightbringer? Why? But before he could ask any more questions, the shard kept going on its lengthy explanation.

 _But you see here, this universe shares the warp. A very, small section of the warp. However, its side of the warp is protected by ancient seals and wards from equally ancient gods, preventing the chaos gods, and others from getting in, or their greater servants. Because of this, their section of the warp is much more calmer, and weaker. This is why their psykers aren't very strong, because there's very little warp energy to use. The gods here are manifested, because they are worshipped by their followers. But because the population here is much smaller than one would imagine, they are mere specks compared to my awesome power._ The shard said, gloating slightly at the end.

 _Wait. The Kaldorei worship a deity known as Elune. She is real here?_ He asked.

 _She is. It's just that her essence is trapped in their own nice little corner. Bad thing is, the chaos gods are trying to find their way in. And if you and your fellows don't intervene, everyones gonna fuckin die, you hear?_ The shard snapped at him.

 _Wait… fellows?_ The Necron Lord asked. The shard let out an evil chuckle.

 _But of course! Others from our realm are here! They are scattered, but they are all converging on the same goal. To destroy the Lich King! If he wins the war against the living, he will open a pathway for the chaos gods to use! Don't you get it? We planned for this the whole damn time! Me and the other C'tan knew while we were sharded, that they would try to do this! So with some coordination with other gods in the warp pantheon, we sent you lot here!_ It cackled, its rant interweaved with laughter. The Necron Lord was sent spinning from this revelation. It was clear that the Nightbringer and the other C'tan had a bone to pick with the chaos gods, and to deny them a whole other side of the warp would piss them off to no end. But others were involved in this too? How would they react to each other? More importantly, how would they react to him? The Humans would hate him for not being Human, the eldar would hate him because he was a Necron, and the orks… the orks would just want to fight him. But he had more important questions to ask.

 _The warp pantheon?_ The Necron Lord said, confused.

 _You really are an idiot are you? All of the surviving gods have a presence in the warp. We have a presence in the warp too, even though us and the emperor are the only ones who are technically mortal. Sometimes, they gather to beat the crap outta each other, but other times it's to chat. Some gods are friends with others. But lately, the chaos gods have been up to no good, as always. So Me, The Deceiver, and the Void Dragon did some 4th degree warp fuckery with the remnants of the eldar pantheon, the emperor, and even the damn orks… and the rest is history!_ It replied, cackling evilly.

 _You knew of this… all along… and you never told anyone?_ The Necron Lord said slowly, in confusion and disbelief. He could practically hear The Nightbringer smiled.

 _Hell yeah I knew all along! Besides, it took us awhile to figure out how to get in, and we had to do it in secret to make sure that the chaos gods didn't find out. And when I say awhile, I mean nearly 10 millennium, right after the Horus Heresy. It was actually pretty damn hard, but we found a way to transfer mortals from our realm to this one. But the wards prevents the pantheon from actually getting in. And as previously mentioned, we had to send the mortals in. You being here was kind of a convenience thing._ It admitted.

The Necron Lord sat there, trying to absorb the information thrown at him. Others were here, and from the gods he had mentioned, it would most likely be humans, eldar, and orks. However, this did not help him in the slightest. What was the Lich King? He scanned his databanks and memory stores, but he could not find any information about this so called Lich King. The Necron Lord stashed away the shard, much to its complaints. He had a lot of things to contemplate. None of them were good.

/

Clea carefully crept through the underbrush, careful not to make a single peep, or a sound. She had snuck away from the camp, in order to do some consulting. Of course, Spookums had kept a close eye on her, but when she said she was doing some meditation, and couldn't do it while Bluddflagg was snoring like a dragon, he let her to it. Of course, she was not doing meditation. Far from it. She carefully took out a small orb from her cloak, shaking it slightly. It glowed a sickly dark green, and after a few seconds, the face of Sylvanas Whisperwind greeted her, a pair of red eyes glaring at her, grey hair coming out of her cowl.

"Dark Lady." She said quietly, greeting her. Sylvanas nodded once, as expected. Get right to it.

"Report." Sylvanas stated. Clea cleared her throat, before she continued.

"Our quarry deserves quite a lot of attention, and more. The Kaptain still remains suspicious, but that is to be expected. He has not revealed too much. The Mek on the other hand is very talkative, Mista Nailbrain, if I'm correct. He appears to be an engineer of unmatched intellect." She said first.

"Explain." Sylvanas said coldly. Most would have shivered, but after being in the presence of the Dark Lady, one would know that she kept her cold facade like a child, ever since she had become a Forsaken.

"Not only is he the one responsible for making, and maintaining their weaponry, he appears to have made an object that allows him to teleport long distances… without magic." She said. Sylvanas absorbed this information. She could only imagine if she hooked up such things to powerful creatures, like abominations, and teleported them into enemy lines. And the fact that it did not rely on magic was excellent. This meant that their would be very few mistakes when using it. She wanted, no NEEDED this ork in her ranks. Forsaken or not, it mattered little.

"Did he say how to make it?" She asked. Clea shrugged.

"He did, but I couldn't understand much of it." She said, with a small smirk. "He was practically foaming at the mouth while he was explaining how it worked.

"Very well. Continue." Sylvanas said. This Mek was very interesting, but he did not look like other orcs, that she had unfortunately gotten used to.

"In addition, he said that if he had other Meks, or workers, and more tools, he could make Stompas. According to my estimation, they are around four times as large as Flesh Golems, though they can go taller. They are basically massive golems, controlled by pilots and maintained by a crew. They also can be customised to the user's liking, to either be 'dakka' or 'stompy.'" She added on. Sylvanas kept her facade, but inside of her head, she was gaping at this. Four times the size of a flesh golem? And all he needed were some more workers, and some more tools? This was like a dream come true! He would be an excellent servant. He could not be made into a mindless one though. That would be an absolute waste of talent. He could not! With him, and him alone, she could rise so much in power, that all those who dared to defy her would be crushed underneath her heel! But first, she needed to get him to her side. Of course, their were many ways to do this. She shook the thought out of her head. She would think about this later. She still had some questions left.

"What of the others?" She asked. Clea smiled a bit.

"The last ork, Spookums, seems to be an extremely well trained rogue. One would think his size goes against him, but he seems like a professional. There's not much too much to talk about him however." She stated. The Dark Lady smiled, a rare thing for her to do.

"Excellent. Report to me when they find this human. These few are a very interesting bunch… and they shall be mine." Clea nodded, as the orb began to fade in color. She stowed it away, and headed back to the camp.

/

Klaus sighed with relief. Finally, they had reached the main road! Unfortunately, it was nighttime, and he wanted Ketzer to rest. The poor horse was probably tired as he was. It was with great effort, that he managed to fend Lofn off from her endless questions. Had she not been a xeno hybrid, she would have made a fine interrogator. He wanted nothing to sit down, and take a breather. Which was what he did, as he collapsed onto the hard ground, and took a deep breath. Lofn sat next to him, with the cloth blanket underneath her. He found it strange that she was so protective of her robes, and to keep them clean. Although that could be said the same with him, but getting it dirty was not that much of an issue. It was going to get dirty, no matter what he did. Whether it be dust or gore.

"My back hurts…" Lofn grumbled, rubbing her assumed to be sore back.

"Then fix it." He replied back, as he reached into his satchel, his hands pawing around for his journal. Was it him, or did Lofn's face suddenly pale? Maybe it was him. Suddenly, he got an urge from the land down under. Time to go number one.

"I will be right back. I must relieve myself." He said, leaving to go do his business. Two minutes later (and the author did not want to describe going number one.) he returned. He sat down next to his satchel, and reached into it. He took out his journal. He opened it up, mumbling a prayer. Then he stopped. He stared into nothing for a few good moments, before glancing at Lofn. He wanted to ask this question, for a while now. Until the day he died, he would deny that he was worried at this one moment.

"Lofn, I must ask you a question. And you will be honest with me." He said, getting a worried glance from Lofn. Why would she be worried?

"Go ahead…" She mumbled, blushing slightly. What did she have to worry about? He sighed, scratching his neck. He didn't know how to ask this question. _Here it goes…_

"What's it like… to… to have a family?" He blurted out. Her face changed so quickly it was almost comical. Her face softened, the blush in her face slowly fading.

"Why… Why do you ask?" She asked. He sighed.

"I've been wondering about this question for a long time. Before all of this frakkin crazy grox shit happened. Before we met. Before I got here. While I was in the Death Korps. I wondered about this question for a very long time, ever since someone asked me this. I am only surprised, and disappointed in myself, of whom I am asking this question to." He admitted. She smiled a little bit, coming close. Part of him desperately wanted to get away from her. Fear the mark of the xeno after all. But a small, yet powerful part didn't want to move. He was torn of what to do.

"Don't you have family in the Death Korps?" She asked. He shook his head.

"A majority of us are clones, and most of us die too young to even consider it. Only a rare few actually get married with others, but even then, they return to the battlefield after a while." He replied. "The closest thing we have to family is other Korpsmen, but yet again, it's hard to know one another when all of you are faceless drones." He said, too absorbed in his thoughts to hear Lofn snort.

"Well, family life is good. When you have a family, you have someone you can rely on, no matter the situation. You look out for each other. Families share goals and values, and they work to achieve these goals." She explained. Klaus sat there, absorbing the information. She smiled a little bit, scooting a bit closer.

"Why do you ask?" She asked. He did not respond for a few moments, before sighing.

"In my service to the god emperor, I have seen many a family. Some are lucky, and keep together, while others are broken and ruined. I thought nothing of it. But the question came up when a PDF officer asked me a question. What is family to you? I could not answer him. Three years later, I still had no if I ever encounter that PDF officer again…" He said, glancing at Lofn, and smiled slightly underneath his mask.

"Then I will tell him your answer." He said. She grinned, as they sat next to each other, discomforts forgotten temporarily. They both peered into the campfire, both thinking polar opposite thoughts. Klaus was wondering how many prayers it would take to make himself feel at least comfortable, and Lofn… Lofn felt pity, and a bit of sympathy.

/

Tyrande had a lot to think about. The deeds of the Lord of Metal, or as it called itself, a Necron, had spread like wildfire. The lives of the Night Elfs had recently been miserable. Every sentinel patrol that comes back has a few more night elves missing. The night elves could only hold off the enemy for so long. The Burning Legion were making more dedicated pushes against the defenders, slowly gaining ground. The Scourge were holding them off, trying to prevent both the alliance and horde, who had signed a temporary non aggression pact, to fight the scourge. The scourge had been trying to defend the shores of Northrend, and the ships coming back, simply with bodies of the slain proved this. The night elf people were dying, slowly yet surely. Then, a being made entirely of metal, with a staff so powerful that it made its enemies simply disappear, slaughter an entire demon warband by itself. The Necron was viewed as a hero. Tyrande wasn't entirely sure what to think of… it. It fully admitted that it was a sinister, evil being, driven by its emotions of hatred. It admitted that it held a being of such devastating power that would many would die if it was freed from its prison. She should have destroyed it. But reports from the sentinels, it had its arms blown off, and they seemingly reattached themselves. This would point to it being undead, but it did not reek of undeath. As a matter of fact, it didn't even look undead. Sure, it didn't look living either, but that wasn't the point. The point was what to do with it. She didnt even think she could kill it. With magic, maybe. But those strange spider things that scuttled all along its body seemed to have a relationship with it. Maybe it was their master. Regardless, these spiders seemed to help reconstruct the Necron. But at the same time, many a kaldorei would be saddened if the Lord of Metal was to be destroyed. She had a lot of things to think about, and a lot of things to do. And she did not have much time.

Review Time

Doomsdayguy12345: Jeez dude, I owe you for raising the review count by a whole lot :). But in all seriousness, I do enjoy your story, and Im happy that you enjoy mine ;)

rc48177: Their will be a loyalist marine, though he will show up quite a lot later... The chapter I have in mind may surprise some.


	21. Chapter 21: The Council

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!  
Couldnt upload a chapter yesterday, very sorry.

Not too much to say, but anyways, hope you enjoy!

The Necron Lord waited for the nano scarabs to finish the maintenance check. The nano scarabs checked his body inside and out, to make sure that he was operating at peak performance. A metal chirp came from inside of him, as the Nano Scarabs came out from a small opening they had opened in his Necrodermis chest. They stitched the hole closed, and they crawled up to his head, and he downloaded the information.

 _Status Report: Loading_

 _Necrodermis Regeneration: Peak Efficiency_

 _Movement Systems: Peak Efficiency_

 _Memory Storage: Permanently damaged. Repairs impossible_

 _Combat Interface: Peak Efficiency_

 _Nanoscarab Interface: Damaged, currently repairing_

 _Logic Processors: Peak Efficiency_

 _Phylactery: Peak Efficiency_

 _Phase Shifter: Peak Efficiency_

 _Lightning Field: Peak Efficiency_

 _Teleporter: Peak Efficiency_

 _Mindshackle Scarab Hive: Peak Efficiency_

The Necron Lord sighed inwardly. So his memory was damaged. That made a lot of sense now that he thought about it. He sent a command to the Nano Scarabs. They unburied themselves out of his head, and retreated back into the Phylactery. He grabbed his Staff of Light and powered it up. Powerful green energy laced through his arms, activating the Staff. The gauss attachment flickered to life, powerful green lightning arced from the blades, flaring green energy.

 _Hey, where we going?_ The shard asked, as he donned on his cloak.

 _I must find the others from our realm. I have thought long and hard of what to do, but finally, I know what I will do. I shall help them in their quest, but after that I will hide you for all eternity, and return to slumber._ He replied, adjusting the cloak to cover the spinal prongs that stuck from his back.

 _Don't you have to tell that Night Elf, Thelinda, that you're leaving? And besides, I don't think you can get out of here unnoticed, in daytime no less._ The shard stated. The Necron Lord thought about it for a moment. He had to use a flight master, as they were called, to leave the island, and had to practically go through the entire city to reach it. He only wished he had a Nightmare Shroud, but sadly, he did not find any within the vault, and he had already sealed it. Permanently. It pained him to detonate the tomb, but it was already compromised. He would not let mortals steal his artifacts, or his long dead servants. Though the night elfs were not so keen of detonating the tomb, in fear of destroying 'sacred groves' he did so anyways. He opened the door to his room, leaving the small cottage he had used as a temporary residence.

"Wait! Lord of Metal! Where are you going?" He heard a night elf yell, and he slowly turned around, to see the muscular yet lithe form of Thelinda Mosswing running after him.

"I am leaving Thelinda. Do not follow." He growled, walking away.

"But Lord of Metal! I cannot allow you to leave!" She cried out. He slowly turned around to face her, amplifying the glare in his green eyes, to the point like it was staring at a sun. She winced, trying to hide the baleful glare of The Necron Lord.

"And why is that?" He asked. She took a gulp of breath, before she replied.

"I cannot allow you to leave, without the high priestess's permission." She said, her voice still stoic, as she recovered from his glare. Admirable.

"Time is of the essence. Tell your High Priestess that I am leaving. Tell her that I go to find someone." He growled. She shook her head furiously.

"You will tell her yourself." She said, her voice calm, yet filled with authority. He grinned inwardly. Maybe some intimidation was in need. At his command, dozens of Mindshackle scarabs crawled into his open hand. He commanded them to stay still. He stuck out his hand, and she glanced at the mechanical scarabs, that let out small glows of green light from tiny spots along their mechanical bodies.

"These are Mindshackle scarabs. At my command, they will bury into your skull, and infiltrate your brain. I will either subtly suggest to your mind that you go to Tyrande, and do my bidding, or I shall force you to do my bidding. You will become no more than a puppet, and I will become the one pulling your strings. Then, when you have fulfilled your use and purpose, I will make you kill yourself. You can avoid this fate, If you do what I tell you, NOW." He growled threateningly. She nodded fearfully, as the scarabs made metal chirps, scuttling around in his hand.

"Good. Now, you will go to Tyrande Whisperwind, and tell her that I am leaving. I will go to the flightmaster, and I will leave this isle. If she wishes to make complaints, she can talk to me, or my mindshackle scarabs." He ordered, shaking his hand slightly, the Mindshackle scarabs scuttling over each other. He sent them a command, and they retreated back into the hive. He covered himself with his cloak, wrapping it around, revealing only his face. He dimmed the lights in his eyes, until they were only two dull green orbs.

"Are we clear?" He asked, and she nodded again. He waved her away.

"Now go. I have very little time, and very little patience." He growled, and she was sent running. The Necron Lord started to walk away, heading for the town square.

/

Lofn sat on the ground, meditating. She took deep breaths, each breath of air flowing into her nostrils, and into her lungs. She could practically feel the cool air traveling through her body. She exhaled, the now warm air coming out of her nostrils. Her eyes were closed lightly, as she sat there, calming herself. It was part of a Farseers training to always remain calm, under any situation. A panicking Eldar was a dangerous Eldar, for several reasons. They could lower the mental barrier in their mind, that all eldar knew how to keep up as children, and attract she who thirsts. They could potentially set other Eldar into a panic, and worst of all, if they were Seers, they could use up their runes to too much of an extent, and threaten all around them. Said runes were slightly glowing a soft, and light shade of red. To prevent being effected from the Perils of the Warp, eldar used runes to draw on energy of the warp. However, in this strange place, the runes were not draining warp energy fast enough for her liking. She gently reached out in her mind, isolating thoughts of worry, before getting rid of them.

"Um… Lofn..." A voice said distantly. She tried to ignore it.

"Lofn!" It said again. She sighed inwardly. Couldn't they leave her alone? She tried even harder to squeeze the voice out of her head, when she realised it wasn't coming from her.  
"LOFN, YOU DAMNABLE XENO! OPEN YOUR EYES, BEFORE I PRY THEM OPEN!" It screamed at her. She opened her eyes, and gasped. Klaus was levitating ten feet in the air, floating around, tendrils of gentle warp energy holding him up. His idle gasmask was staring daggers at her, as he floated in the air.

"I'm so sorry Klaus!" She cried, as she gently lowered him down to a safe height. The tendrils reeled back, and he collapsed onto the ground. He coughed, as he raised himself up slowly, slightly wobbling.

"Sorry Sorry Sorry!" She said, as she ran over to him. He put a hand up, and she nearly ran into him.

"Your apologies are not needed. Nor welcome. Nor accepted. But next time, warn me when you are doing your witchcraft. Especially when I am asleep." He growled, rubbing his shoulder. She sighed in relief. At least he was alright.

"It is time we leave." He said, as she heard a crack come from his fingers, as he pulled at them, one finger at a time. "We shall eat on the road. We have very little time to waste." He added on, as he took his combat knife and ripped it from the ground. He put the knife away, and slowly pulled Ketzer towards him. He whinnied as he came, annoyed that he could not eat more grass. He vaulted on top of Ketzer, and yet again, Lofn was reminded of his rather surprising agility. He stuck out a hand, and she took it, as she climbed on. Soon, they were on the road again.

"Why do you carry so many gems?" He asked suddenly. She turned around, seeing his hand pointing at the runes embedded in her armor, and the spirit stone at her neck.

"These are runes. They allow me to draw in warp energy, without risking myself to She Who Thirsts." She explained. Then he glanced at her Spirit Stone.

"And that?" He asked. She considered about what she was going to say.

"A family heirloom." She lied. He seemed to believe it, and looked away. She gingerly touched the spirit stone. Spirit Stones were valuable to eldar uninhabited, and extremely valuable when inhabited. It was the only way to be safe from the perverted hands of She who Thirsts. However, she wondered if Klaus already knew what these things were. The only humans who really knew what spirit stones were, are the Inquisition, and a few space marine chapters. But as he mentioned before, he had talked to a particularly heretical inquisitor. Maybe he already knew, and was merely testing her? Yet again, she cursed the damn gas mask. That was the one thing that still proved to be quite an obstacle. She had grown thick skin to his insults, thought it still hurt, though not as bad. She eagerly hoped that one day, that mask became broken, or lost, or forgotten. But yet again, that was part of him missing. But it was one part she wouldn't miss.

/

Mista Nailbrain spat out a bloody tooth, as he continued to work on his Tellyporta. He had lost at least three teef, and gained a few new scars, ever since one of the cogs in the Tellyporta snapped, he had been working for three hours now, and everything he seemed to do made it worse. He worked tirelessly, and surrounding him like an aura, were pieces of scrap metal, spit, tape, rivets, screws, and nails.

"Needs more nails…" Mista Nailbrain mumbled, taking out a few nails out from his toolbox, sticking it between his teeth, as he ripped open the Tellyporta once again, to try and find the problem. He moved aside bits and gubbins with one of his hands, gutting the mechanisms. He rewired the mechanisms with his freehand, before shoving the nails into the suspected problems. He gave it a good whack with a wrench just to be sure. He took out a welda, slipping on his goggles, and began to fuse the deep hole in the tellyporta shut. Bright red sparks shot out, as the flame melted the scrappy steel shut.

"Dis is gunna wurk. I knows it." He grinned, as he turned off the bright blue flame on the welda, stashing it away in his toolbox. He slipped off the goggles, wiping a thick crease of sweat from his forehead. He flicked a few switches. The tellyporta flickered to life, bucking wildly on the ground. He grinned, as he strapped the tellyporta back onto his scrap armor. It wasn't the flashiest thing, but yet again, he wasn't a Flashgit, or a Bad Moon snob. He selected a target close by with the Gitfinda, and he teleported. Most would be disorientated, or be throwing up, but an orks robust physiology could handle it. That, and Mista Nailbrain had used his personal tellyporta many times. He noticed that Clea was sitting on a small boulder, watching him.

"Ow long ya been dere?" He asked, as he powered down the tellyporta. She shrugged, coming down from the rock.

"How long have you been working on it?" She asked, with a small smile. Putting two and two together, Mista Nailbrain realised she had been watching him from the beginning.

"Awhoile." He said, scratching his cybork eye. She looked at the gleaming red metal eye.

"How did you get that?" She asked. He grinned savagely.

"Dis be my cybork eye. I lost me real eye a zoggin long toime ago." He grinned. She appeared shocked.

"You… You can make new eyes?" She asked, stunned. He made a so-so gesture.

"I kant make new eyes. I can make da cybork eyes, doe I wuld need a painboy wiff me." He explained. She raised an eyebrow.

"Painboy?" She asked. He slightly shivered at the mention of painboys. A natural reflex, after working with them for so long. Especially the more… crazy ones.

"Painboys be da doks of ork kultur. Deys zoggin mad doe. Any propa ork stays far away from dem, cuz most of da time dey zoggin mad. But sometoimes, I'ze gotta wurk wiff dem." Mista Nailbrain admitted. She shrugged, inside of her head, drawing similarities to some Forsaken Apothecaries she knew.

"So how do you make them?" She asked. He gave her a savage grin. So she wanted an explanation? He would give her one. But before he could do it, Bluddflagg stirred in his sleep, slowly waking up.

"Ugh… Zog...:" He grumbled, pushing himself up. He looked at the two, before looking around.

"Da zog is Spookums, and da uvva one?" He grumbled, taking off his pirate hat, rubbing his head. Mista Nailbrain shrugged his shoulders, while Clea merely took a glance around.

"I saw them going out to the stream to fill their canteens." She reported. Bluddflagg gave her a good hard look, before back at Mista Nailbrain.

"And why ya up so earlee?" He questioned. Mista Nailbrain gestured to his Tellyporta

"Da Tellyporta been actin up. I hadta fix it." He explained. Bluddflagg took out a large canteen from his belt, popping a cork. He took a good swig of it.

"Kapn, dat be Fungus Beer?" He asked. He threw the canteen to Mista Nailbrain, and he nimbly caught it, volatile juice splashing on his face. He took a wild grin as he took a good swig of it. It felt good to feel that explosive brew go down his throat, and he shivered in delightment.

"Dats da good stuff." He said, wiping his mouth. He handed the Canteen back to Bluddflagg, who put the canteen back.

"Dont got more brewa boyz doe, so dis be da last.." He grumbled in reply, stowing the canteen back into his belt. Spookums and Zentar returned through the underbrush, carrying their respective canteens.

"Lets zoggin go already. Da soona we foind da humie, da soona we get to foightin and lootin." Bluddflagg grinned, as Clea led the way.

/

Thrall sat among the war council, the respective generals sitting at their sides of the table. The war council consisted of him, Garrosh Hellscream, Varok Saurfang, and Sylvanas Windrunner. They adjusted their seats, before Thrall initiated their conversation.

"How goes the siege of Northrend?" He asked. They looked amongst each other, before Varok answered him.

"It goes well, but strange things are happening. It was expected of the undead to retaliate, and we have suffered casualties, but reports from the men have reported strange sigils on some of the living cultists." Varok said. Thrall suddenly got a bad feeling, at the mention of these sigils. Jaina had mentioned something earlier about these eight pointed stars. That strange human seemed to hate whoever bore these sigils. If Bluddflagg ever found him, then Thrall would ask him about it.

"Saurfang speaks the truth. Some of our Dark Rangers have found strange shrines, also bearing this sigil. It is something that cannot be ignored." Sylvanas added on. Thrall glanced at her. She was thinking of something.

"Shamen that look upon the mark have been driven mad. Something foul is going on in northrend, warchief." Garrosh growled. Thrall thought long and hard.

"What of the Alliance?" He asked. The generals paused. Conflicts between the Alliance and Horde consisted of small skirmishes, but it benefitted no one. A rather shaky unofficial non aggression pact was in agreement, as they both had a much bigger foe to deal with.

"They are pushing against the scourge. It is not known if they have encountered these shrines or cultists." Varok reported. Thrall nodded, focusing back on the issue of the shrines.

"If they drive our mages and shamans mad, then they cannot remain. All shrines bearing the mark, along with any living, must be burned to ashes." He growled. He got a few surprised glances from the generals. It was unlike him to be so brutal.

"Very well Warchief." Garrosh said, grinning slightly.

"How are our supplies?" Thrall asked. None answered him for a few moments.

"Not well. There have been many blizzards and storms around Northrend, pushing back or sinking our supply ships. More supplies are needed on the front if we are to hold a beachhead. Weapons are regrettably, in short supply." Sylvanas said, keeping her cold facade, as usual. It was something that he regrettably had gotten used to.

"Most of our ranged weapons are in short stock. Bows, arrows, quivers." Garrosh added on. Thrall thught long and hard about this, until he was interrupted.

"Warchief, If I may." Sylvanas said. Thrall gestured her to continue. She nodded, before glancing back at him.

"Those orks that have recently left. Their weapons could be very useful in the war effort." She suggested. He couldn't help but agree. Recently, a few of his Kor'kron guard had these weapons. Inaccurate they were, they were however, like fully automatic muskets. Many a thief had tried to steal their weapons.

"Oh yes, those strange orcs. What was their captain's name? Bluddflagg?" Varok said, scratching his chin. Thrall nodded.

"They are heading to Ratchet as of right now. To meet up with some human." Sylvanas replied to him. Garrosh seemed interested. Most likely for a duel.

"I asked them to visit Chief Engineer Gazlowe. If they can somehow mass produce these weapons, then this can certainly help the war effort." Thrall said. However, Varok shook his head.

"And what happens if they fall into the hands of the enemy? What happens if the alliance gets them?" Varok stated. They could not answer them.

"Yet again, the Mek seems to have an intellect that goes past even gnome engineers. I doubt they could reproduce these weapons." Sylvanas said. Thrall narrowed his eyes at this. How did she know? Was she spying on them?

"It's possible, but if the alliance takes too many, they could use it against us." Varok pointed out.

"Regardless, it is something we can certainly try. I shall send a messenger to Ratchet, and hopefully, we can make these weapons, or as the Mek called it… Shootas."

Review Time

Guest: Alright buddy. Whatever you say.

AlienLizard: I cant focus entirely on the orks, but if you find them to be intresting, then good for you!

Guest: Never too much heresy ;). But ill try to fix this issue.

King Rocket: I dont think so, but its a possibility.

Grey Knight Paladin: Thank you so much! Im happy that you can enjoy it.

Rc48177: Well to be honest, all crossover fanfictions are what if scenarios, so it is a weird joke, no matter how you put it.


	22. Chapter 22: They Near

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!  
So, Just wanna make some anouncements.

So, the upload schedule will be changed a bit.

Chapters will be uploaded every other day, rather then everyday.

This is to prevent straining myself, and in addition, allows more time for reviews and views to accumalate.

I hope you guys can understand.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

The Necron Lord walked through the crowd, trying to keep himself concealed. Keyword was trying. Most of the night elves caught on that something was strange about this seemingly robed figure. The Necron Lord tried very hard to conceal his hands and arms, as he walked, using the staff to propel himself forward. Nothing could be done with his feet though, as they shuffled onto the ground, scraping against soft grass and equally soft grass. He could do nothing with his tracks being left into the ground and road, and soon, he found it very difficult to move, as a small mob of night elves tar pitted him. He ignored their cries of happiness and joy, and ignored their praises. He slammed his staff into the ground, and the night elves were sent reeling back in confusion, and possibly fear. Then, he teleported, leaving a fine green mist. He teleported several hundred feet away, as he continued to walk away. He had to find the damn flight master, but it was proving to be difficult. He scanned his surroundings again, his dull green eyes taking in every detail of his surroundings. He could not discern any individuals, that looked like a flight master. He made several whirring noises, as his logic engine was running constant thoughts of what to do. He knew that the High Priestess would try to track him down soon, and his options of escape from the island were few. He had no money whatsoever, though he did have mindshackle scarabs. However, this would only enrage the kaldorei. He would find the flightmaster, shackle him to his will if he refused to let him leave, and leave the island. Then, track down the others from his realm. He started to walk again, when suddenly, he heard a cry from behind.

"Lord of Metal! You shall take not one step forward!" A familiar voice said, and The Necron Lord was seething in anger. Thelinda, and a band of sentinels, and other night elf warriors came from the streets, sending citizens running, sensing a conflict. They were right.

"You dare to interfere, whelp?" He growled, turning around, pushing back his hood, revealing his black, necrodermis head. He powered up his eyes, as they glowed brightly back at the night elfs.

"Tyrande has forbade you leave from Darnassus, until you comply with her requests." She replied back. He laughed, a harsh, grating, metallic noise that made some of the night elfs wince.

"You think you can stop me? Please, I have other things to do rather than fulfill some priestesses wishes." He said, turning away. Thick vines erupted from the ground, wrapping around his metal legs harshly. Most mortals would panic, but he was only annoyed. He powered up his Phase Shifter. His black body slowly faded in color, becoming translucent and pale. His eyes faded, as he partly shifted from the material realm. It was a technological wonder, showing how inferior other races were. The night elves gasped in shock, as The Necron Lord simply walked out of the strangling vines. They strangled thin air, as he walked away. However, he was no fool. Sooner or later, the Phase Shifter would run out of power, and need to recharge. With this, he started to pick up his pace. The Phase Shifter let out a small beep, as he returned to the material realm.

"Lord of Metal! If you do not stop now, we will be forced to attack!" Thelinda cried aloud. Good. Let them try. He did not answer them, and soon, arrows started to batter against his back. Though they ripped into the cloak, the flimsy arrowheads merely snapped in contact with his body. Fools. Necrodermis was a strong metal, built to resist most intrusions. Though it did not stop Lasguns or Bolters or Shurikens, he highly doubted that they had either of these. He ignored them. Though he would love to spill their blood, he was regrettably, surrounded by these night elfs.

 _Genocide on your mind?_ The shard asked. He glanced at the shard, still kept safe within his cloak, as he kept walking/jogging, arrows and glaives pinging off of his back.

 _Though I would find amusement to scour this realm of their race, I fear that would be a regrettable decision. They lack anything that can actually harm me, and if they did, nothing my Necrodermis and Phylactery regenerative abilities could not handle._ He replied back to it. He was being arrogant, but right now, he didn't care. All he wanted was a way off.

 _Well Genocide is on mine. Say, if you release me, we could cut down that tree together. It think it's large enough to make a bridge off the island. Maybe it would kill a few elves, but you dont care_. It proposed. The Necron Lord gave a small chuckle.

 _Do you think that i'm that foolish?_ The Necron Lord asked it.

 _No, but consider it another option for escape._ The shard replied back. The Necron Lord suddenly, was knocked out of his conversation, by a force that knocked him to the ground. He raised himself up, and turned to find a small hole in his back, an arrow lodged into his spine. nano scarabs rushed out of the phylactery, sensing its master was wounded. They scuttled to the wound, and began to remove the arrow from his spine. After a few seconds, it was removed, and the nano scarabs began to stitch the wound shut. He looked at Thelinda, holding her bow, an arrow with swirling purple energy around its head notched firmly into said bow.

"I cannot allow you to leave, Lord of Metal." She said, as the other sentinels and druids gathered around their leader, their weapons drawn. To this, he merely snorted.

"Do you wish for your blood to be spilled across these streets? Do you wish for your bodies to defile this ground? If so, I can comply." He stated, flourishing his staff, before slamming it into the ground. Green energy arced into the ground making crackling ripples, shooting out like barriers. A mere illusion, but they didn't know that.

"Do you wish for your freedom to be taken so easily? Do you wish to be my puppet? If so, I can comply." He said, as Mindshackle scarabs laced between his free hand, and he stuck it out, showing the chittering Mindshackle scarabs.

"Do you wish for your soul to be forever tortured, and for your only wish is for the sweet relief of death, of the reaper bringing the scythe to your neck? If so, I can comply." He growled, as pointed his staff, straight at Thelinda, the gauss attachment flaring brightly in power, arcs of green lightning traveling up and down the shaft of the staff. She did not answer. None of them did. The arcs of energy from the ground flared brightly one last time, before they receded back into the ground. Satisfied, he turned, and walked away, fluttering his cloak with a flourish.

"Do not follow me kaldorei, unless your petty mortal lives mean nothing to you." He said one last time, before he disappeared in a green mist.

/

Bluddflagg looked at the sun, squinting. Using his paw against the sun, he judged that it was roughly halfway till sunset. A useful trick, that he had learned during his training as a stormboy. Being a stormboy was a phase in ork society though, even if they were zoggin crazy. But yet again, this situation was zoggin crazy. More so than that. Here he was, in a strange place, trying to find a Deff Korp humie, and guard him from spiky boyz, in a place where the dead walk, and so did cattle. Squats were back, even squattier squats live with the squats in their squat kingdom, and the pointy eared twats came in a new suit of colors, and there were female orks. That part still shocked him. If he told any other ork about this, they would assume he was a Madboy. Hell, maybe he was one. Regardless, this was still zoggin crazy. He idly wondered what loot this world had to offer. Better be some good loot, to deal with all of this shit. He shook the thought out of his head before it consumed him. He was bored, with nothing to do. There was no doubt about it. While Mista Nailbrain was occupied, by explaining how cybork implants worked with the pasty ranga, and Spookums was teaching Zentar what Kommandos did in ork kultur, he had nothing to do. Might as well take a smoke, he thought to himself. He reached his hand into his greatcoat, taking out a fine metal box. He opened it, a small poof of dust going into his eye. It twitched in irritation, as he took out a nice and fat fungus cigar, wrapped in squigskin. He took out a lighter, one that he had stolen from a Lord General, and lit the cigar, with some difficulty. It was rather hard not to throw the lighter down in frustration. After all, such a small item in his large hands was nearly impossible to maneuver, but he managed. He stuck the cigar between his tusks, maneuvering past his Iron Gob, and bit down hard. He took a deep breath of the foul smoke, and sighed. It had been awhile since he could unwind. Being a Freeboota was good and all. Not only did he get to kill, he got to loot! And being Kaptain, he got first pick. But it was good to every now and then, to relax, and take a nice smoke. After all, they had been jogging nearly six hours straight. Of course, as a Kaptain, he would not admit that he was tired, but his first mate was not as tight lipped. Expected of course. The biggest orks would not admit their weakness. But here, his rank, and size, meant nothing. Before, size meant everything. Size dictated whether you were a runt, or the boss. But here in this strange place, size meant nothing. These orcs were like humies! Humies were all around the same size, and so they dictated leadership on their uniforms and hats. And while Bluddflagg had respect for any Humie with a good hat (and sometimes stole them), he could not respect any ork who based rank on uniform. Except Blood Axes, but even then, the Warboss was still the largest, and the most decorated. He wondered what he would do after he killed the spiky boyz, and helped the humie. He didn't think he could go back, and as so, he was probably stuck here. Maybe get a ship, a new krew, and go fighting and looting? Become a mercenary? He didn't know, and this worried him. He took another drag from his cigar, dabbing it lightly. Ashes fell upon his steel toed boot, and he kicked it away. Maybe he should stop thinking so much. That was for humies. He took a drag of a cigar, before he threw it at his feet. He grounded the done cigar to the ground with his boot, before he scratched idly at the scar at his eye. They still had a long walk to go.

/

Klaus scratched the back of his head, snaking his finger underneath his helmet. Relieving himself of the itch, he looked over Lofn's shoulder. They had been trotting down the road for a good six hours now, and they still encountered nothing. They did take 30 minute rest breaks every two hours, for Ketzer of course, but still met no one. On one hand, this was good. That meant that they were not in a fight, or otherwise. On the other hand, he idly wondered if Lofn even knew how to get to Ratchet. This brought him to a pause. How did she know where to go? He took a quick glance at her. Strangely, she did not wear her helmet when around him, unless in the rare encounter with others. This was a bit odd in his opinion. A soldier's uniform was like his identity. Especially to Korpsmen, as it was literally their identity. That and their identification number, that was literally his identity. He had never seen any Eldar in his six years of service, though the Primer did talk about them. Many a veteran knew that the primer was hilariously inaccurate, though it still had its uses. But anyways, why did she not wear a helmet? He wondered if he should ask her, but he shook this thought out of his head. No, no more questions. You know too much about the infernal abomination, he told himself. She is a stain in mankind's genepool, and should be rid of. Even the eldar looked down upon her, as a mongrel. For once, he could agree with xenos. She was lesser than him. Yet this did not explain why she was so friendly to… anyone, really. Most would have given up talking to him, but yet she was persistent. No, persistent was not the right word. Unrelenting and Ruthless was more like it. He found it rather amusing that she tried, but she just wouldn't stop! It was starting to get on his nerves, but he pushed these thoughts down and away. Focus on what is happening, and not on your opinions on her. He focused back onto the road, as they continued to trot down the road. Suddenly, the air got colder. He involuntarily twitched, his hand clasped firmly onto his chainsword. He still had not gotten used to Lofn's psychic powers, or Lofn in general, which was something he desperately hoped to never happen. He retracted his hand slowly. She would provide an explanation, as usual. Though she did not yet explain the incident that had happened this morning.

"What are you doing?" He asked. The air warmed up again, and Lofn turned around, with a small grin.

"Our ork friends are nearby. A day or two's travel away. We'll meet up with them. If my predictions serve me right, they will be heading to Ratchet. They are looking for us." She said, as she urged Ketzer into a full out sprint. Klaus snorted, his hands reluctantly grabbing her shoulders to prevent him from falling. How could she trust the orks so quickly?

"Friends? Orks will turn on you with a show of power, or a bit of coin, like all xenos will. You would be a fool to trust them." He said, chiding her. She shrugged, a smile on her face that Klaus could not see.

"I haven't turned on you yet, right?" She asked. To this, he only narrowed his eyes.

"Key word is yet. When I am of no use to you, I will find that witchblade of yours in my back." He replied back. She smiled, yet again. By the throne, could he not wipe that smile of her face?

"You think I would do that? I'm hurt." She said, putting a hand on her chest.

"I do not think that. I know that. And when that time will come, do not expect me to die without a weapon in my hand." He snapped back. She sighed, looking back to the road.

"Your no fun." She grumbled. He raised an eyebrow. Fun? Fun was not a word he was not aware of.  
"I am no fun? What does this mean?" He genuinely asked. She opened her mouth, as if to explain, but then closed it.

"Very well. If you do not wish to explain, then you will do it later." Klaus said, his grip tightening, much to her amusement.

/

Review Time

King Rocket: Not necessarily. On the battlefield, all eldar don warmasks (helmets) but many do not wear said masks when on the craftworld themselves, as it is looked down upon. Only exarchs actually do these, however. Yes, their will be a speesh marine, and they will be given more heavier equipment. They wont be ill prepared ;)

Guest: Orks are considered comedy relief in most stories that they are mentioned in, though they still have a brutal side of them. Hell, some orks are even sicker then those Iron Warrior fucks.

AlienLizard: An interesting proposition. When I finish this fanfiction, it is a avenue that may be pursued later.

Rc48177: Pretty sure they dont have lasguns in WARHAMMER. (Its warhammer 40k m8)

MrOreoMan: Apologies. Will fix this issue in previous chapter, to prevent others from getting terminal cringe.


	23. Chapter 23: Memories of Old

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!  
So, here is another chapter.

Also, terminal cringe warning, for ahead.

Hope you enjoy!

Bluddflagg sat down on the large tree stump, scratching his ass. By Gork, did it itch. Luckily, he cured himself of his itch, just in the nick of time too, as the rest of the group came back, taking their respective leaks. Except for the Forsaken of course. Well, maybe not. Did Forsaken have to pee? That was a rather interesting question. Did they even eat? He hadn't seen her eat, or drink for that matter. He would have to ask Clea later. They sat down around the campfire that they had erected, and did nothing. For five minutes, there was silence, except for Mista Nailbrain's rather bad gas, and Bluddflagg's ragged breathing.

"So, Kaptain Bluddflagg. Do you have any stories to share of your… career?" Clea asked finally, breaking the silence. She got both a spiteful and dubious glance from the Kaptain in return.

"Wots it to ya?" He growled. She merely shrugged.

"A way to break the silence. The real question is, what's it to you?" She inquired, rather too innocently for his liking. His underlings looked between the Dark Ranger and him. This was a show of power, and both him and Clea knew it. It was to see who backed down first, the Dark Ranger or the Kaptain. He gave her the mother of all death glares, before his hand snaked up into the air. The four looked in confusion at the sudden gesture. He picked a helmet from his Trophee Rack, and carefully took it off of its spike. He lowered his hand, and threw the helmet. The Dark Ranger grunted in surprise as she caught the heavy helmet.

"What is this, a trophy?" She asked, lifting the helmet of the fallen chaos lord, her finger brushing up against the engraved runes and sigils of chaos.

"Dat be a trophee, ya pasty git. Dat be da elmet of a spiky boy boss. Dey is like humies, but zoggin crazee." He explained, as if she could actually understand what a spiky boy was. Obviously, she did not.

"Spiky Boyz?" She said, looking over the helmet as best as she could. Zentar came close to Clea, looking at the helmet as well with morbid curiosity.

"Dey be dese humies, dat follow dese gits, dat dey call da chaos gods. Dey's ded ard doe." Spookums said, grinning wildly. Bluddflagg shot him a look though, that wiped his grin from his face. Bluddflagg watched firsthand what chaos did, even to orks. It wasn't good, and he did not want their influence here.

"Dark gods?" Clea asked in interest. Bluddflagg growled, giving her a glance that let he knew that she had overstepped a boundary.

"We dun talk about dem dumb gits. Drop da interest, uvvawise, yooze gunna get in lots of trouba." He warned her, and she rightfully backed off, handing the helmet back to him. He grabbed the helmet like it was a toy, and put it back on its proper spike.

"So how did you kill this… spiky boy lord?" She asked, rather curiously. He grinned, as he took out the large canteen of fungus beer. He took a quick swig, before he wiped his mouth with his hand.

"Iz a long story…" He began, but he grinned wildly, leaning back on the tree stump.

"But its wurff it." He said, as he began his tale.

/

Bluddflagg cackled, swiping his cutlass. The chaos space marine dodged the swipe, returning with his chainsword. Bluddflagg blocked the blow, as he gave the space marine a propa smack with his freehand. He fell to the ground, and Bluddflagg let out a roar, as he stomped on its head. His massive weight crushed his head like a melon, gore spurting onto his greatcoat. He growled, wiping his greatcoat of gore, only making the stain worse. The boardin torpeetoes were a success, though a few hundred boys did die. His firstmate, Mista Nailbrain, voted to loot the spacey hulk, to see if their was some good kit here, and to be honest, Bluddflagg didn't really give two shits. Turns out, their was a small warband of spiky boyz and crazy humies here, and they didn't want to give up their loot. Not that he didn't mind of course. On the contrary, he did enjoy a good fite. Behind him, were hundreds of boys and nobs, fellow freebootaz like him. He turned to them, and let out a mighty WAAAGH! His krew roared back in savage joy, many drenched red in blood.

"All right ya gitz! Weze gonna loot dese spiky boyz of dere kit! First boy in gets da secund best pick of da loot! First goes to me, course." He elaborated. They roared back in reply, and he led the orks forward. They soon came across a large door, surrounded by small shrines. He looked one over in revulsion, before he smacked it with his sword, breaking the fragile material. He yanked at the door, but it refused to budge.

"Daggom! Get ya grot zoggin arse ova ere, and open dis door! Weze got spiky boys ta kill!" He roared. Daggom the Nob came forward, Powa Klaw in one hand, a chainaxe in the other. He grinned in savage joy, eager to please the kaptain. Daggom was a good Nob, but not the sharpest choppa in da drop, but he did his work well.

"Eaga ta pleese, kapn." He grinned, giving a salute with his Powa Klaw, which nearly bisected an ork in half.

"Daggom, get da zoggin door open, fore I krump ya." Bluddflagg growled. Daggom obliged, powering up the Powa Klaw. A crackling field of golden energy surrounded the Klaw, and Daggom roared, as he smashed the Powa Klaw into the reinforced door. The Klaw cut through the metal with ease, and he began to pull at it. The door ripped open after a few good tugs, and Daggom squealed, as the door collapsed on him.

"Alright ya gits, get in dere, and get killin!" He roared. The boys roared back at him, as they trampled Daggom nearly to death, running into the bridge of the spacey hulk. The spiky boys turned to face them. Red beasts roared in anger, wielding brass swords with unholy warp fire circling the blades. Bluddflagg cringed in revulsion. Daemons. He didn't like daemons, too squirmy and slimy for his liking. But it was still something to kill.

"WAAAGH!" The orks screamed, as they charged headfirst into the chaos boys and daemons. The daemons let out unholy noises, as they teleported into the mob of boys. More and more orks stormed into the bridge, led by Zognogg the flashgit. Zognogg let out a battlecry, as he and his shoota boys fired at once, a golden torrent of slugs ripping into massive mobs of crazy humies. They screamed, as the bullets ripped into their soft flesh, ripping them from limb to limb. The spiky boyz were more resistant, but even their armor could not handle the simple torrent of gunfire being sent into them, and most dived for cover, shooting at the mob of shootas with their bolters. Orks were sent flying back, most missing arms and heads. Bluddflagg charged into them, several bolt rounds detonating on his armor, sending shrapnel flying. He cut a spiky boys head off with his sword, before he grabbed another one in his massive paw. The chaos marine struggled as hard as it could, but this did not stop Bluddflagg, as he smacked his massive cutlass into its head several times. Its head gave away, a tidal wave of gore spluttering into his face. He growled, as he was blinded by gore. He wiped his face of blood, before a particularly interesting sight caught his attention. A spiky boy lord was currently bisecting one of his nobs with a chainaxe. He could tell it was the lord of the spiky boyz, because he was covered in grisly trophies, and had some flashee armor. The spiky lord was completely surrounded by bodies of dead orks, making a two foot wall around him.

"Oi! Ya git!" He roared, as he pointed at the spiky lord with his cutlass. The spiky lord turned around, the front of his white and gold armor drenched in gore.

"Yooze foightin me, ya stoopid git! Kum on!" He roared. The spiky lord let out a laugh in return.

"Fool! I am Lord Sekron! Bane of a dozen worlds! Butcherer of the Innocent! I have razed hundreds of cities in the name of Khorne! You think that you can best me?" He roared in defiance, pointing a finger at the kaptain. To this, he only smiled.

"I dun fink so. I no so." He grinned in reply, his grip tightening on his cutlass.

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!" He roared, as he charged, swinging his chainaxe like a madman. Bluddflagg grinned, as the two combatants charged, and leaped at each other. The chaos lord struck first, swinging his chainaxe in a decapitating motion. He took the swing on his armored shoulder. The chainaxe screamed, as it rended a large gash in the scrappy armor. Bluddflagg returned a swipe to the chaos lords legs, to which he rolled out of the way, right into his awaiting fist. Bluddflagg swung hard, a haymaker that sent the chaos lord smashing into several ancient terminals. The chaos lord rose up quickly, and charged back into the fray. Bluddflagg blocked several wild swings with his sword, and defended himself against a feint that would have cut a large gash in his midsection. The chaos lord, in return, dodged several swipes that would have left him armless, but he made a mistake. The chaos lord in his arrogance assumed that the kaptain was not yet done, and moved himself out of the way of an imaginary swing. Bluddflagg took the advantage, and plunged his sword deep in the chest of the chaos lord. He raised the chaos lord high into the air. The chaos lord struggled, as his body sank deeper and deeper into the cutlass, gravity dragging him down. Bluddflagg let out a mighty warcry, as crazy humie, daemon, and spiky boy looked to see their leader defeated. He twisted the blade, getting a cry of pain from the chaos lord, as he ruined his insides, shredding muscles, organs and bones. He threw the chaos lord down to the ground. He crawled, trying to grab his fallen chainaxe. Bluddflagg grabbed the chaos lord, and threw him like a grot. He slammed into the reinforced bulkhead, and slipped to the ground. With the death of their leader, the chaos gits broke.

Daemons were dragged screaming back into the warp, angry that they could not spill any more blood for their master. Crazy humies begged for mercy, and few were given mercy, as being taken for personal slaves, while the others were butchered. Spiky boyz were given no such pleasures, as they fought valiantly, but ultimately brought down by the green tide of orks. Bluddflagg grabbed the dead chaos lord by the head, and brought his sword down on its neck. With a powerful chop, the head tumbled away from its bleeding body. Bluddflagg grabbed the head, and shoved it on a spike on his trophee rack. This would be a fine tale, he mused to himself, as he began to scavenge the spiky boyz of da best loot.

/

Klaus sat there, spit polishing his boots, for no reason really. Well, he did actually. To evade Lofn and her damnable questions. Her curiosity was starting to get on his nerves. They were… UNRELENTING. She would just not stop! At first, he didn't mind, as she asked less personal questions, like what was your least favorite xeno? Of course, he could answer that question. The only xenos he had never faced in his career were the eldar, dark eldar, tau, and necrons, so he did not necessarily had a grudge against them. Sure, he hated them, for they were xenos, and therefore lesser than him, but that wasn't the point. But then, she got more and more… personal. He didn't want to know anymore about the xeno then he had too, but she just wouldn't stop! He had already tried everything to evade her, and so far, none of them worked. For the cruel, sick joke, was that no matter what he tried to do, no matter what excuse he had to not answer her questions, or simply evade them, she would find a way. He was starting to run out of ideas, and soon he considered just flat out ignoring her. Oh wait. He tried that. He cursed at himself for the inability to defend himself from her relentless questions. Interrogation, he could handle. He could handle being beaten for answers. Gentle probing, was far… FAR… worse. Something in his mind just refused to deny her questions, and he LOATHED it. He would go on a mental purge, find this… emotion or thought, that was allowing this weakness to come from him, and purge it to oblivion!

Speaking of the damnable woman, here she came now. Strangely, she walked rather… differently, than normal. She walked rather… strange now, swinging her hips slightly, a strange smile on her face, her eyes filled with an emotion he could not name. What was she doing? She sat down right next to him. Very strange indeed. She was not this… direct to make him uncomfortable. He scooted away, but she persisted on coming closer. This was very strange indeed, and he wasn't sure if he liked what was going on.

"Lofn, may I ask you a question?" He asked, keeping his voice calm and monotonous, to try and keep the uncomfortability from his voice. She bit her lips slightly, as she looked at him right in the eyes, even through his gold tinted lenses. He shivered slightly, that stare giving him tingles down his spine.

"Go ahead…" She said softly, her voice rather pleasant to hear. He cleared his throat, before he continued.

"I believe you owe me a definition, of the word you had used before. Fun, as I recall it." He said. To this she laughed softly, before leaning in closer, only a few inches from his ear. He wanted to run. Run as far as he could. But part of him made him stay. Damn you! He screamed f in his head, but could not voice.

"Fun is when you enjoy something, and it makes you happy." She said softly. He took note of this. She got closer.

"Then I would find it… Fun, if you got the hell away from me. You are making me uncomfortable." He snapped at her, hoping that she would get the message. It failed. Hell, it even backfired, as she came a little closer.

"And why is that?" She whispered now. She was doing something. And he did not want to be a part of it. He tried to pull away, when she hugged him. She was hugging him. And while it wasn't the first time that she had done it, it was so random that it caused his brain to short circuit, and he froze, unsure what to do. He was trained to kill the enemy at range, to fight them off in melee, to die in glory. He was not trained, however, to get a xeno away from hugging him. Suddenly, he remembered a particularly bad deployment. One that scarred him mentally, and one he dearly hoped he had forgotten, one that he hoped stayed in the deepest, and darkest pits of his mind. Dont! YOU WILL NOT REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED THAT ONE DAY! YOU WILL NOT! He could not help himself, and he screamed, as the horrible memory, that he so desperately tried to forget, overwhelmed him.

/

The Necron Lord would sneer if he could. Here he was, surrounded by these night elves. His trek through Darnassus had not gone unnoticed, and soon, around a hundred Kaldorei Sentinels, and Tyrande herself surrounded him. She was dressed in battlegear, though it did bear a resemblance to the gown she was wearing before. Instead of being curious, now she was angry. Angry wasn't the right word, Furious was the proper word. He may have scared off a quarter of the population, after threatening to enslave many to their will, unless they moved out of the way. Was it necessary? Maybe not. Did it feel good? Hell to the fucking yes. For five minutes, they had a silent stand off. He could feel the silence like a heavy fog, when Tyrande finally broke it, by saying something he never thought he would hear.

"Lord of Metal. I do not want to fight you. You have done good deeds, and I do not believe you to be the person you describe yourself as." She suddenly said, which completely knocked him out of his thoughts. What did she say? He checked to see if his audio receivers were malfunctioning. No, they were working.  
"I am sorry. I was not listening. Repeat what you said." He said coldly. She made a gesture, and the sentinels partially lowered their weapons. Partially.

"I said, I believe you to be a good person, despite what you say about yourself. I will allow you to leave Darnassus, but only if you follow my one, request." She said.

"I will consider it. What is your one request, High Priestess?" He asked. She held her hands out in a calm gesture, though she still had a bow in one hand.

"Simply allow one of my sentinels to accompany you in your journey." She said. He paused. He then let out a metallic chuckle, one that caused her to narrow her eyes.

"A thinly veiled attempt to keep an eye on me. Do you think me for a fool?" He asked. She shook her head.

"No. I simply wish to keep a tab on you. In case some… accidents, happen." She explained. He thought about it for a moment. He would be given a way out of the city, to find the others from his realm. But this deal was not in his favor, and he would change that.

"Very well. But, I will add a stipulation to our deal." He added. She shrugged.

"Then speak it." She said. He gripped his staff a bit more tightly, sensing that something bad may happen.

"After I find… who I am looking for, and help them in their quest, you will find the most secure, tomb, vault, or any secure location, and hide this shard. You must promise me this." He said. She paused for a moment, and The Necron Lord swore he could hear the Nanoscarabs scuttling around in the Phylactery.

"Very well. I promise you this, Necron." She said, as the sentinels began to disperse at her command.

 _Why are you so hell bent on hiding me?_ The shard asked him.

 _You know why, you psychopath_. The Necron Lord snapped back at him.

 _Yeah, I guess._ It chuckled, before it went silent again. Tyrande came closer, although cautiously. That made sense at the very least. Maybe these kaldorei were not as inferior as he first imagined.

"Who do you wish to find anyway?" She asked, rather curiously. He considered it for a moment. It wouldn't hurt to tell her who he was looking for.

"I look for others from my realm. They are not Necrons, like I am, but they come here to converge on one goal." He explained, surprised that she did not appear shocked. She looked at him for a few moments, before continuing.

"And what would this goal be?" She asked. He stared long and hard at him with his green eyes, and she was about to ask the question again, when he answered her.

"To destroy the Lich King, and save this realm."

Review Time

King Rocket: I noticed that mistake a little too late. I apologise. If it suits you, I will put trigger warnings at the begging of every chapter.

AlienLizard: To be honest, I was never that interested in Fantasy Battle lore. Though it certainly would be an interesting story, I want to at least finish Kriegcraft, or get to a level in which I am comfortable, in order to start a new fanfiction.

R48177: As said before, I don't really know Fantasy Battle lore, but in all honesty, I intend for this to be warhammer 40k only. It was the universe I grew up with, so I enjoy it more. I hope you can understand.


	24. Chapter 24: Inner Thoughts

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!  
So barely managed to squeeze this chapter out.

Was very very busy today, hope you could understand.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Lofn sat there, worried out of her mind. Out of all of the reactions she expected out of her more… direct attempts to make him uncomfortable (of her grandfather's request, of course), him simply screaming, then falling asleep were not one of those things.

She couldn't sleep, not after that. For hours, she just sat there, completely filled with worry, watching him. Some would say it was creepy, and it kind of was. But she couldn't help but feel sorry for him, sorry for what she did. Klaus was not the kind of person to be called a coward. Hell, she didn't even knew that he felt fear. But whatever he saw during his service, must have scared him badly. She sat there, and sighed. How would she apologize? Would he even care? She didn't know anymore, but more than ever, she just wanted to say sorry.

She felt something touch her, and she flinched. She looked down, to see his black gloved hand, clasped lightly on her hand, clutching it. She felt a small tinge of warmth in her cheeks. She blamed it on the dying fire. She didn't pull her hand away, as she pulled out her small bag, taking out her runes of fate. She shook them lightly, and the runes glowed a dim red, as they reacted to her gentle psychic activation. She looked at them intently, as several of the runes flared in color. She processed the sequence for a moment. She smiled, putting them away. Things would go well, the runes had predicted. If everything went to plan, they would be reunited with the orks by sunset of tomorrow. Then they would head to Ratchet, fly to the town nearest to Darnassus, find the accursed chaos relic, and destroy it, and then defeat the Lich King. But then she paused. What about Klaus? She looked at him, as he was lying there, sleeping. It was well known, that ever since Taldeer had married LIIVI, Eldrad Ulthran had grown a burning hatred of mon'keigh, humans especially. It had gotten to the point where she wondered who he hated more, the lackeys of chaos, or just normal humans. Of course, what happened to her Mother afterwards made things even worse. She knew that by the time this was over, Klaus may very well not survive. Whether it be from the final battle itself, or the recall, or even her grandfather. But she knew her duty.

'Protect the Mon'keigh, and let him do his duty. Afterwards, he is useless to us', her father had said. But as she looked at him now, she wondered if she could stomach her grandfather's hatred. Maybe he was wrong about humans, or maybe she was. Only time could tell. She didn't push the thought more than necessary, as she squeezed Klaus's hand lightly.

/

Mista Nailbrain swore loudly, as the trigga 'sembalee exploded in his face, peppering him with shrapnel. He growled in anger, as he ripped shards of metal from his face. The Kaptains Kustom Shoota simply refused to work. He knew that something was wrong for a while, but he had never gotten to fixing it. The Kaptain, would not have this, and said 'Mista Nailbrain, if yoo dun fix me Kustom Shoota, dat kost me a bukkit of teef, moi boot is going to go so far up yer arse, that its gunna be kummin out of da uvva soide.' And because the Kaptains boots were steel tipped, he did not want said boot going up his ass. Normally, it would have been an easy fix.

However, Mista Nailbrain was cursing up a storm that would make the drunkest ork blush. Clea watched intently from over his shoulder, as he set on fixing the Kustom Shoota. He was happy that at least someone shared an interest in machinery, though he wondered if she was just curious. He hoped it wasn't the latter, but the former. He was excited to meet this Gazlowe, that resided in Ratchet. A skilled Mek, he apparently was. Though he doubted this Gazlowe had the same type of knowledge in the field as him, at least he had someone who had a shared interest; in making things killy. He focused back on reassembling the trigga 'sembalee, which was easier said than done. He took the bits of shrapnel, and stuck them together with a wad of tape and spit. He put the assembled gubbins back in the trigga 'sembalee, and then very carefully, rewired the mechanisims. Thirty minutes later, he took out his welda, intent on sealing the hole.

"Ya might wanna step bakk pasty. Dis gunna be broight." He grinned, as he powered up the welda. It bucked wildly in his hand, and he flipped his Welda Mask. Through the heavily tinted lenses, he fused the hole shut. The plasma weldas bright flame was as bright as a supernova, and Clea, who had taken a quick glance stumbled back in pain, letting out a cry, rubbing her eyes. Mista Nailbrain cackled in evil laughter, as he finished the weld, turning of the torch.

"I warned ya." He said, as he stowed away the welda back into his toolkit. He took the heavy Kustom Shoota in his hand, rubbing it appreciatively. It would need a new coat of red paint. He looked it over in his hands, struggling not to drop it.

"I sometimes wonder how you are even considered an engineer. You make and fix these things with your own spit, blood, and tape. And somehow, it works." She mumbled, as he looked over the Kustom Shoota. It was an ingenuity of itself. A pinnacle of Ork techyologee. It had two barrels, stacked onto each other, with a large sickle clip of armor piercing booleets. Two times the dakka! It was zoggin crazy! He was only sad that he was not strong enough to handle the recoil. Spookums could, and had his own version of it, though it did have some different gubbins. But Bluddflagg, being the Kaptain, and a Warboss, could easily handle it, carrying it one handed too. Considering that a normal ork boy was incredibly strong compared to normal humans, the recoil was simply insane.

"It be da marvels of Ork Techeeologee." He replied back firmly, as he aimed at a target, and pulled the trigger. Dozens of bullet shells cascaded from the gun like a waterfall. He yelped in pain, as the Kustom Shoota fought him like a squiggoth, and he could barely help himself. Spookums, roused out of his sleep, ducked, as Mista Nailbrain squealed, trying to control the recoil. Clea let out yelped, as he turned towards her, bullets ripping through where she was a moment ago, as she ran out of the way.

"Mista Nailbrain? Is dat da bootiful Cacophonee of me shoota wurkin?" Bluddflagg said, wiping a small tear from his eye. Mista Nailbrain dropped the shoota, jumping up and up, as the Kustom Shoota kept shooting bullets at his feet. It was like a demented version of jump rope.

"Kaptain! Da shootas wurkin now! Get it Get it Get it!" He squealed, as Spookums let out a hoot of laughter, applauding the spectacle in front of him. Bluddflagg cackled, as he snatched the Kustom Shoota from the ground, giving it a good whack. It stopped firing bullets, shooting out the sickle clip.

"Gud wurk Mista Nailbrain. Maybe me boot aint gonna be cuvered in yer shite." Bluddflagg said, hugging the Kustom Shoota like it was a child.

/

Klaus sat there, silently fuming. He had no real way to deal with his anger anymore, so he had to settle with giving Lofn burning death glares from his solemn mask. She was content on not turning to confront him of what happened last night, and as so, he was content as well. He didn't want to remember… that deployment. He never wanted to speak of it again. No one deserved to know what happened that day. For hours they rode, neither of them wanting to talk. However, the blissful silence was finally broken, much to his annoyance.

"Listen Klaus… I'm… I'm sorry." She said solemnly, looking at him over her shoulder. He didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry for what I did… I'm sorry I brought up some bad memories…" She said again, refusing to meet his eyes in shame.

"But maybe… If you want to talk abou-" She said, but she was interrupted, as Klaus had drew his knife at an instant, holding it to her throat.

"I had enough of your false apologies. Listen here you grox fucker, and listen close, for I will warn you once. That is it." He growled through clenched teeth. She didn't seem fearful, something that surprised him. She was upset. Upset? Why would she be upset? He shook the thought out of his head. Now was not the time for thoughts, he had something to do.

"I tolerate your presence, if only barely. I tolerate your questions, some of them at least. But I will not share what happened that one day. And you would do well to keep me from remembering what happened that day. Understood?" He snapped at her. She nodded, and Klaus retracted the knife from her throat, sheathing it back in his belt.

"However, I cannot blame you for what you have done. You had no intention of sparking that memory. For this, I apologise. My actions were uncalled for." He noted aloud, getting a surprised glance from Lofn he did not entirely see.

"But, I will not talk about what happened that day." He added on, before they were in silence once again. It didn't last nearly as long though, before Lofn began her next round of questions, much to his dismay.

"What's with the skull on the gas mask?" She asked first, waving at the skull faced gas mask. Klaus touched it reflexively, before replying.

"It is to symbolise that we are dead men walking. That we have outlasted most other Korpsmen. That we have not yet died to repay the sins of our ancestors." He explained, though it seemed she did not get the point. Or maybe she did, but was too ignorant.

"So you accept the fact that you are already dead? Whys that?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowed. He sighed, before continuing.

"I did not expect you to get the point. Being a Grenadier is no honor. It merely shows that you have more skill or luck than your average Korpsmen. As so, Grenadiers will be placed on far more difficult, and dangerous missions then the average Korpsmen." He said. She frowned, before turning away.

"Learn to live life more, Klaus. You have a whole life ahead of you, and you certainly don't have to live it short." She said. Klaus thought about her words, but then discarded them.

"It would be a shame for a Korpsman to not die on the battlefield. You wouldn't understand, anyways. You eldar would sacrifice millions of lives to save one of your own. You care of nothing except yourself." He replied firmly back at her. To this, she narrowed her eyes.

"And you think you humans are better? You would kill billions of your own if even one was considered a traitor." She snapped back. Klaus clenched his fists, preventing him from striking the xenos right off Ketzer. She had guts, and he would giver her credit of that. But she had yet to learn the boundaries that she should not cross.

"You dare? Should I even mention what your dark kin do?" He retorted, getting a huff from Lofn.

"Craftworld Eldar and Dark Eldar are two different things! It's like comparing a normal human to one corrupted by chaos!" She said, before realizing she had just crossed a line. Klaus bit his lips bloody, trying to keep back the flow of insults and curses that would spill out of his mouth.

"You dare compare the wonderful human form, to a wretched spawn of chaos? If I knew that we were not constantly monitored by your kin, my chainsword would already be stained with your blood." He growled back at her.

"And If I did not know my duty, I would have done the same." She said, though Klaus could tell she was lying. Something was up with her, and he would get to the bottom of it.

"Then we shall see who is right in the end. Wont we?" He said, a dry smile on his lips. She did not meet his gaze, however, and looked away.

"Yeah. Sure." She mumbled, looking forward. They were silent again. But when the silence was pleasent before, now it was akward, each one wondering who would make the next move.

"So where are the greenskins? I heard the gunshots before, but…" He trailed off, as she put a finger to his mask playfully, a smile creeping back on her face.

"Dont worry. I will handle the greenskins. You just worry about not getting yourself killed by our green allies." She smiled, giving him a toothy grin, before turning away. Klaus was once again, left speechless. She was good at that.

/

The Lord of Metal got off of the small boat, the small spiders running up and down his body, digging into his skin. Thelinda shivered. She would never get used to that.

"I shall never get on these "boats" again." He growled, straightening out his rugged and tattered cloak. When Tyrande had told him the sentinel that would accompany him, he had sworn so many times she wondered if something had happened to him. Of course, she could not understand the curses, but she recognised curses when she heard them. She wasn't thrilled with the choice either.

"Get used to them. You will see many of them in Kaldorei lands." Thelinda said, as she got her bearings, as the small boat began to leave the port. The Lord of Metal took a good look around, and took a deep breath. Did he even need to breath? She wondered idly, as together, they looked at Auberdine. The city was moody, a sharp contrast to the cheerfulness and tranquil environment of Darnassus. The sun seemed shy to cast rays of light, as a constant grey smog smothered the sky like a blanket. In a place of such darkness, Auberdine was the only real safe place in this dark place. But she wondered if anything Darkshore had to offer that would even scare the Lord of Metal. She had seen him regenerate first hand, and it scared her. Especially the strange, spider like beings that lived in a small, scarab shaped charm, embedded in his collarbone. He was very strange indeed, and wondered if he was immortal. He would certainly attract the eyes of mages and the such. Well, he would attract looks from everyone really. As if he was reading her thoughts, he turned to her, slightly looking down. He was slightly taller then her, and he knew it.

"Thelinda. It would be best if many did not know of my presence, or see me for a matter of fact. My cloak is satisfactory, but it is damaged." He said, grabbing a large amount of his cloak, giving her an accusing glare. She huffed. She would not be intimidated by him. She did before, and it was a moment of weakness. She would stay strong.

"Then we shall get you another one. However, I do agree. You may catch the attention of some, that are not… welcome." She mumbled. He nodded, as they began to walk forward, their footsteps echoing on the wooden pier, the dark waves sloshing against the piers. Rain began to pelt the two of them. The Lord of Metal took another look around him.

"If you add the cancerous thing we called a sun, and got rid of the rain, this would remind me of home." He said, clicking his staff on the wooden pier. She did not answer his statements, but listened intently.

"Lord of Metal, perhaps we should seek somewhere to rest." She said, rubbing her eyes, small dark circles forming around her eyes. He gave her a glare, his dull green eyes staring intently at her.

"Very well. I have long forgotten the frailties, and plights of mortal bodies. If you seek shelter, then we shall find shelter." He said, as he began to walk forward. She was sent spinning by his statement, on the other hand. Mortal Bodies? Though he had called her mortal before, she assumed it was something with arrogance. But maybe, he no longer was a mortal, and ascended to immortality? Immortality was something the kaldorei once had. No longer, however, after the destruction of the world tree at the end of the third great war. It was something they hoped to regain, and even tried to replicate the world tree, though the dragon aspects did not grant it their blessings.

"You speak from experience?" She probed, intent on knowing. He gave her a glance, before looking back, pulling up his soaked hood.

"I do. I was once mortal. But Immortality in this…" He said, gesturing to his body of metal, before looking back at her.

"Was a curse…" He said, before walking forward. She was fuming on the inside. He was infuriatingly vague with many of his statements. Nothing that she could change, however.

"Care to explain?" She asked. He looked at her, before looking away, back to the ever enclosing town.

"It is a tale for another time. And one that I am not too keen of sharing." He simply said, ending the conversation.

Review Time

AlienLizard: I never intended that. But I will look into it, however. Could prove to be interesting.

RedRat8: Its like voldemort. Dont say his name! Jaina will return, dont you worry.


	25. Chapter 25: Reunited

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

So, here we go, chapter at a sensible time (Shocking, I know.)

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

The Necron Lord wrapped the new cloak around his body, clasping it to his neck. It was a pristine cloak, made from black cloth, sewn with a green trim all around. The symbol of the necron ankh, in the center of the back area of the cloak. After doing some bartering with the local tailor (and perhaps giving him a mindshackle scarab for his troubles, when Thelinda wasn't looking). It was sewn rather quickly, only taking 30 minutes (due to same mindshackle scarab, subtly suggesting the tailor to do it as fast as possible) After fumbling around with it for several moments, he had finally covered himself up nearly completely, only exposing his face and his staff, which glowed dimly with green energy.

"These clothes will suffice." He said, stepping into what the kaldorei had called sandals. She brushed out his cloak a little bit, before stepping back, sizing him up. She smiled, before they left the small shop.

"Very well. It is unfortunate that we had to come here in the middle of a storm." Thelinda said, looking forward, where it was pouring buckets of rain, with the occasional thunderclap, making it even moodier outside, even though it wasn't even night yet.

"Weather is something that does not affect me. Regardless, we shall seek shelter if you require it." He said, as he tested the items called sandals, that now adorned his feet, taking several steps around. It muffled his footsteps, which was good. It also didnt leave such noticeable tracks, though he wondered if it constricted his movement to a degree where it would be debilitating.

 _Looking fancy, Mister Necron Lord._ The shard snorted. He glanced at the shard, which was kept in his new cloak.

 _Quiet you._ He growled back, silencing the shard. For now at least. The Nightbringer was less talkative during the boat ride, though his did vent his frustration shortly before. Said frustration was at the state of the other c'tan, saying that 'The deceiver is still masterbating himself silly because he's a fucking loser, the void dragon is still the emperors bitch, the flayers fucking dead, no one knows where the outsider is, and neither does the worldmaker. The burning one is still burning things, but even I don't know where the fuck he is. Oh yeah, and the rest of the c'tan me and the outsider ate, because the deceiver is a fucking retard, and the reason we got pokeballed into oblivion.' And while the Necron Lord asked what 'Pokeballed' meant, he simply replied with '4th degree warp fuckery.' So in short, the Nightbringer was not too happy.

"There is an tavern nearby. We could visit." She suggested. He looked down at her, and then looked away, clicking his staff onto the soft ground.

"It is not me who requires rest. It is you." He said, and she shot him a glance, before the two made a dash for the Inn. The rain pelted his Necrodermis skin, soaking his black and green cloak. While the rain would do little to harm him, he ran anyways, just to be on the safe side. They reached the tavern, hiding underneath the roof of the building. He took a look around, reading the sign.

"Fish Eye Tavern." He mumbled to himself, as they shook themselves clean of water, though it did not help that much. They stepped inside the hearty tavern. Heat assaulted his sensors, and he recalibrated them to handle the sudden change. Many people were there, most eating their food, though he did earn several curious glances. He adjusted his cloak so only his face and staff could be seen, and besides, the cloak was so masterfully sewn, that the cloak provided a shadow over most of his face, only revealing his two green eyes. He considered getting something to cover his hands when he tried to keep his identity hidden.

"Would you like something to eat?" She asked quietly, as they headed to a nearby table. They sat down, and The Necron Lord looked at the rather clean window, seeing the pouring rain outside.

"Food is not necessary for my survival." He said blankly, carefully laying his staff on his lap, careful not to accidentally to fire the gauss attachment. She sighed, as a waiter came over. He lowered his head and fazed out, as he began to sink deeper and deeper in his thoughts. Suddenly, he had an idea.

 _Nightbringer. Do you know the location of the others?_ He asked, looking at the shard, still kept safe within his cloak.

 _Hmph. It's possible, but it's going to be very taxing on my powers. I can't psychically peak in, otherwise those wards are going to pummel me, but I'll try._ It said simply, before going quiet. He could feel the air getting slightly colder, and he could practically feel the confused and worried glance from the night elf, even though his eyes were hidden by the cloak. He didn't pay too much attention to this, however, and continued to wait patiently. He demanded a system check from the nano scarabs, and they scuttled out of the Phylactery, checking his systems. One of the nano scarabs scuttled onto his face, adjusting his eye pieces. He looked up, seeing the waiter was now about to leave. Thelinda looked him straight in the eyes, well, one of them anyways, as the other was covered by the nano scarab that was currently adjusting his optics, and he could already feel the tirade of questions coming from her. The second the waiter left, she exploded in a tidal wave of whispered questions. His audio receptors were overclocked, as they tried to pick up each and every word she said, and for this, he got quite an earful. He put up a hand, and she shut her mouth. He lowered his hand.

"If you wish to ask questions, then ask them one at a time. You are overworking my audio receptors." He said softly, though he earned a confused glance from the night elf. She then sighed, before looking at the scuttling nano scarab still on his face.

"What are those spiders?" She asked, waving to the nano scarab. The nano scarab scuttled off of his face, and then scuttled down into his open hand.

"This is a nano scarab. They are self sufficient nano machines, that help regenerate my Necrodermis. Should I become too damaged for my Necrodermis to regenerate by itself, then the nano scarabs will help it. They reside in the Phylactery." He said, pulling down his cloak partially, tapping on the Phylactery. Dozens of nano scarabs swarmed out, swarming over his hand. He shooed them back into the charm, before pulling his cloak back up. She still had the confused look on her face.

"Is my explanation not satisfactory?" He asked, and she sighed, leaning back in her chair.

"No, but I never imagined this would happen." She snorted. He would smile if he could.

"Neither did I." He replied, ending the conversation, as the waiter returned, a steaming bowl of soup in one hand. She was silent as she ate, and so was he, as he looked outside once more, the rain soothing his senses. For now.

/

Lofn took a long look at the tracks in front of them. Somehow, they ended up behind the orks. Not that she didn't mind. It would prove fun to track down such quarry, and to her surprise, Klaus showed the same enthusiasm, but perhaps for different reasons, as he had his Lasgun in both of his hands, and she couldn't help but notice that it was cranked up to maximum power.

"You know we're not supposed to kill the orks, right? We went through a lot of trouble to get them here." She said, as he began to lead her forward, following the thick set of tracks, no doubt made by the warboss.

"I am aware, unfortunately. However, orks spread like a cancer. If their are too many of them, I will be forced to thin their numbers to an acceptable level. Normally, that would be zero." He replied coldly, and she couldn't help but groan. Talking to him about these things were a pain in the ass. He gave her a look, one that seemed to mimic concern, before leading them forward. Thirty minutes later, he shot a fist into the air, silencing them both. They crept through the foiliage, leaving Ketzer alone, for now.

"Dis is so dam boring. I wanna foight sumfing." An ork growled. She sighed, as she put on her helmet. The two red eye pieces powered up. She didnt really like wearing her helmet. It was comfortable no doubt, but that did not beat simply not wearing it. It was something she did not like to do, but it was a necessity at this point. She came out of the foliage, getting a look at three surprised orks, and two other figures.

"Kaptain Bluddflagg." She said, nodding her head at the massive warboss. Bluddflagg wiped his eye with a massive paw, a surprised look edged on his face, and then squinted back at her.

"Da zog are ya pointy eared twigs doin ere? Ya dun trust da orks? Weze gunna foind da Deff Korp git wiffout ya. Get da zog outta ere." He growled, his hand grasping the handle of his cutlass. The other two orks did the same, grabbing their weapons, prepared to fire upon her. The runes on her armor began to flare in power, warp energy being drained into the runes. She would need it, just in case.

"He is right here." She said, as she gently dragged Klaus out of the bushes with her psychic powers, his lasgun raised. He shot a venomous glare at her, as she gently lowered him. He reluctantly lowered his rifle, though his finger still was kept in close proximity of the trigger. Bluddflagg narrowed his eye even more.

"So wot do ya want wiff da Deff Korp git aneways?" He growled. It was only then, she noticed their two companions. One was what the locals called, the Forsaken. She did not know much about them, as the eldar did not brief her very much on the inhabitants, but rather on the geography. Then was the local version of the ork. Not as large as the orks, but they were still larger than a human.

"It is something that can be told later." She said, slightly pushing Klaus forward. He shot her another murderous glance, before he looked back at the warboss. The two stood there, silently observing one another.

"Kaptain." He said simply. Bluddflagg smiled a little bit.

"Grenadeer." He replied. This got a confused posture from Klaus, who still wore his gasmask.

"How do you know?" He demanded. Bluddflagg let out a hoot of laughter, before looking down at the korpsman.

"I fought da Deff Korps fore. Mista Nailbrain knows alot bout ya gits. Dead ard, he says." He said, giving a finger to the lowly Mek, who gave a quick nod. Lofn took a deep breath. This could have gone alot, alot, alot worse. But it wasn't over yet. The introduction phase was over. Now it was her duty to make sure the orks and human didnt try to kill each other. Something that would be very hard.

"Do not expect me to lighten up to your presence, xeno. I have not forgotten the atrocities your foul ilk have done to Imperial Citizens, in order to sate your thirst of bloodshed." Klaus growled, and she rushed to him, putting a hand to the mouth area of the mask. He got the signal, and stopped talking, though she could feel the burning gaze coming from those gold tinted lenses.

"I dun expect ya to loike da boyz. I onlee expect ya to foight wiff dem." He grinned, getting hoots of appraisal from his two underlings. Meanwhile, the other two were watching the scene with intense curiosity.

"I fight with you, as it is a necessity." He said, giving her a part glance, into which she blushed underneath her helmet, as she removed her hand.

"Because this one won't leave me alone about it…" He mumbled underneath his breath, though she could still hear him. Bluddflagg gave a grin, and waved to the two over to the camp fire.

"Den we's gonna foight togetha. Welkum Humie and Pointy Twat to da krew. Sit down, weze bout to roast some pig boyz."

/

Clea couldn't help herself, as she watched the human. He was very strange, and though he did have the symbol of the alliance on him, he did not greet him with hostilities, something that she was utterly baffled by. Though he did spare her several glances, underneath the strange mask, she could not tell what he was thinking. The other one seemed to be the one who was running the operation, and seemed to direct the orks and the human. She was silent, though she did take off her menacing helmet. She looked like a half elf, though not completely. Her soft brown hair and brown eyes complemented well together, and her song like voice reminded her of High Elf nobles. But what attracted her attention the most were their weaponry. The human carried a rifle that looked much better than what the orks had to offer. It was very smooth and aesthetically pleasing, while the orks weaponry seemed to simply be glued together. She wondered if they fired the same projectiles. The half elf's weapon was an elegant sword, that glowed faintly. It was strangely shaped, wide on some parts of the blade, thin on others. Parts of the blade seemed to be chipped in elegantly, and a strange device was lodged into the fuller of the sword. Her armor was black and white, with red gemstones embedded throughout her combination of armor and robes, while the humans armored coat was black with tinges of gold, though she assumed it was paint. Very interesting indeed. These were a strange bunch, she thought to herself. She shook herself out of her unhidden interest, and began to listen into the conversation they were having. The half eldar and the human were talking to each other, while Bluddflagg was roasting the small Quilboar patrol they had come across. She sat several feet away from the pair, who seemed comfortable to be in each other's presence.

"I do not trust these xenos. Orks are a savage, and barbaric race. They will turn on us the second they get the fight you promised them." He hissed, something she barely managed to catch.

"Though they are untrustworthy, we can rely on them not turning on us. For now. As long as they have something to fight, then we will be safe. Have faith in me." She replied calmly back. The human snorted.

"The day I have faith in a xeno is the day the warriors of chaos surrenders to the Imperium, ready to receive their punishment for being filthy heretics and traitors." He snapped back. This peaked her interest even more. The orks had called them spiky boyz, but the human called them heretics and traitors. Perhaps something happened in the past, and divided these chaos humans from Imperial humans?

"Well then, as a xeno, and as a friend, have faith in me." She said, putting a hand to her bosom. The human chuckled.

"Friends? You think I am your friend? You are merely a partner, nothing more, nothing less." He replied back, rather firmly. She sighed, throwing an arm over his shoulder, to which he twitched.

"Oh you." She smiled, and Clea could practically feel the human was uncomfortable, of how his eyes never were took off of the elves arm.

"Why do you persist in physical contact…" He said aloud, though he did not shove her arm off of him. Clea smiled inwardly. She would report to the Dark Lady soon enough. But she still needed more information. It would not be long. She leaned back, and listened into their conversation even more.

"Because, well, I can." She smiled even more. The human looked back at her, his gold tinted eyes peering into her.

"Someday, you will meet someone who will not enjoy such contact." He replied firmly, looking into the roaring fire, looking at the roasting meat.

"And you don't?" She asked, and Clea could sense a tinge of hope,and she smiled. So this elf liked the human, but he didn't share the same interest. This would be interesting.

"I despise it, but I have learned that you are the most persistent, and stubborn xeno I have ever met. It is almost like you adore attention from me." He said, and her smile faltered for a moment. He noticed this.

"Ah, so that's what it is? You seek attention, because your eldar brethren look down on you like a mongrel, and humanity looks down upon you for being a stain in humanity's already faltering genepool." He stated, and Clea could practically hear him smile. She did not answer him. He then shrugged.

"Very well. If you seek someone for you to be with, then you have me. I know you wouldn't stoop as low to go socialise with the greenskins." He said simply, gesturing to the greenskins, who currently were having a smoking contest, Spookums and Bluddflagg taking as many puffs of their massive cigars as they could, while Mista Nailbrain hooted, cheering them along. The half elf looked at him, and smiled.

"You would do that?" She asked, and he shrugged.

"I don't really have a choice. It is rather I accept my doom, or allow you to pester me into insanity. And I sure as hell ain't talking to the orks." He shrugged. The two stopped talking, and they looked into the fire together. Clea nodded to herself in her mind. Good thing for him to do. She leaned back on the rock she rested on, and adjusted her cowl so it hid most of her face, though it could not hide the devilish smile she had on her face.

Review Time

Guest: Well, one of them will at least ;)

MrOreoMan: Thank you, I will keep this in mind for the chapters to come.

Guest: Well, its not easy to simply make a new C'tan. After the war in heaven, and while the necron and c'tans were losing, the deceiver and cegorach (the eldar tzeentch) tricked two of the C'tan, the nightbringer and the outsider into eating the other c'tan for shits and giggles. That and getting pokeballed to oblivion, the only C'tan that survived were the ones who were sharded, and even then, some of the c'tan completly died. As so, I couldn't make a whole new C'tan, fun as it would be.

PrinceSheogorath: it was a mistake I never touched upon, but glad someone noticed it ;)

Tenash: And I shall not dissapoint.

AlienLizard: Slow and steady wins the race after all, though things may change during the school year, something ill touch upon when the time comes around.

RedRat8: Yes, it will ;)

Guest: Orks always find a way! WAAAGH!

Leman Russ: Something ill hope to explain later, to make it at least viable.

rc48177: If eldar had arrogance as a weapons, they could wipe out the whole galaxy. But if humans had ignorance as an armor, they would be invincible.


	26. Chapter 26: To Anger a God

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

Here's another Chapter.

So I have decided that their will be two fanfictions (or books) of Kriegcraft.

If any of you have questions, simply message me, and I'll answer them.

Thelinda opened one of her eyes groggily, and then the other. She rubbed her head, and then noticed The Lord of Metal, standing in front of the one window in the room they had rented, looking outside. The gentle sound of rain pattered against the glass, and the Lord of Metal stood there ominously, still wearing that great cloak/robe he so eagerly kept on him at all times. It was strange. Sometimes, he simply fazed out, and then looked at his cloak. Currently, he was looking outside of the window, his hands cupped behind his back, his back arched slightly. His hood was kept low, partially covering his eyes, and even from her position on her bed, she could see the dull green gaze of his eyes. She looked at his bed, and was surprised to see that it was not even touched. He still kept his sandals on, and had the strange staff with him. Had he been there all night? She didn't think about it anymore, as the Lord of Metal turned to face her, and she covered herself with her blanket, realising she hadn't worn anything before she went to bed. She had packed light, after all.

"Greetings Thelinda. I see that you have awoken. You have slept for 9 hours, 47 minutes, 33 seconds, and 638 milliseconds. With my calculations, I have predicted that you have rested well, sufficient enough for our journey." he said coldly, no hint of emotion in his voice. It was almost like he was reporting to her. If she could admire the Lord of Metal for something, is that he took everything into account. He was cold, yet calculating. She respected that. But she had more important questions to ask.

"Where are we going anyways?" She asked curiously. He made several strange noises, before he answered her.

"Currently, my main objective is the find the others from my realm, and to help them in their quest. Afterwards, you will be discharged, and I will look for a place to lock myself up." He said simply. Thelinda's eyebrow arched up.

"Why?" She asked. He merely let out a metallic sigh, before he started to pace around the small room.

"I will be honest with you. I am a very dangerous individual. I bear weaponry that could devastate entire countries, I bear tools that could enslave millions to my iron will. I bear armor that even the mightiest weapons could not damage for long. I bear relics that could wipe out entire species." he explained curtly, before turning around on his heel, to look flatly at her.

"The real question, is why not? I know I am very dangerous. However, none of the local populations have sufficient space travel, or interdimensional travel, for a matter of fact, that could relocate me to the nearest tomb are all too primative. As so, this realm will be my prison. I am alone, Thelinda. None of my servants could be reanimated back into functionality. Friends. Family. No longer bearing my call, my call to be awoken once more, free to do what we wanted, free to take the kingdom that we had carved 60 million years ago. I have given them eternal slumber, when I sealed my tomb, permanently. I now know that I must live the rest of my immortal life alone, with no one to relate to. No one will remember my story. I will merely become another drop of water in the ocean, to be evaporated, and to never be remembered again. I will have no servants left to carry my story, no servants to carry out my rule. Don't you get it, Thelinda? I am the last of my kind here. I will never see my people ever again." he said, his voice still cold, not betraying the sadness wretched in the ancient necrons mind.

"You are right. I could not relate to you. But that does not mean that you can simply give up on yourself. Even the most evillest, and sinful people can redeem themselves. Any soul can be cleansed." She said, hoping her words would inspire him. To this, he only shook his head.

"Your words have merit. But they do not affect me." he said simply, pushing back his hood with one of his cold metal hands, revealing his black head, and green eyes. She narrowed her eyes.

"And why is that?" She asked, curious. He merely sighed, before turning away.

"For I no longer have a soul. It is forever lost, consumed by the deities we so valued. I cannot be redeemed of my sins, for I have nothing left to be cleansed. I will wait for you outside of the inn. Dress up, consume your breakfast, grab your equipment and gear, and we shall leave Darkshore." he said, as he pushed his hood back on, covering his face once again, before marching out of the room, leaving a confused, and worried night elf.

/

Klaus let out a string of curses at the situation he was in, not caring that Spookums, the Kommando Nob, had yelled out "leeve me squig outta dis!". Klaus did not care for Spookums long dead pet squig, and instead cared about something far more important. Something nice, juicy and tender, being clutched in one hand by the half eldar, a succulent grin on her face, one that he hoped he could wipe off for something that would far more suit him.

"Come on, say please." Lofn teased, holding his breakfast, the meat they had called pork, on a makeshift plate, made from wood. He was unfortunate to be the last one to wake up, with everyone already having or finishing their breakfast. Luckily, Lofn had saved a plate for him. Unfortunately, she would not give it up to him without humiliating himself. Asking a xeno for rations.

"Damn xeno. Give me my rations. I demand it." He growled out, keeping his anger in check. Well, trying to at least. She let out a giggle, and he reached out for it. She pulled it back teasingly, and it took all of Klaus's already vast willpower not to simply strike the xeno where she stood, and take his damn rations from her.

"Ah Ah Ah! You gotta say please!" She grinned, as she made a scene. The strange grey xeno, and the female ork smiling along. The other three orks were watching the scene in front of them, dumb grins plastered on their face. Klaus fumed underneath his gas mask, his cheeks turning red in rage.

"I will not say please you damn pointy eared grox fucker. Rations. Now." He said. Bluddflagg and his underlings let out a hoot of laughter, applauding his insult. This made her grin teasingly.

"Come and get it. Mon-keigh." She said simply, making the universal sign of bring it on, holding out the plate in front of him. He took of his helmet and gasmask, his cold face studying his prey, before his hand reached for the plate, and she pulled back. He growled, and began to gave chase to the hybrid. For five minutes this happened, as Klaus attempted to give chase to the xeno, to try and get his rations, But her superior reflexes and agility got the better of him. As he tried to rush her down, she tripped him, and he collapsed onto the ground, head first. He tried to rise up, but a boot gently connected to his neck, lowering him down. He could hear her lower down onto one knee, a foot still on his neck.

"Say please." She said in his ear, and to this, he merely grunted.

"Bite me." He growled, but what happened next was something that he could not have predicted.

"Gladly." She giggled and after this, Lofn nipped his ear playfully, her white teeth quickly clenching down on the sensitive flap of his ear, before she she breathed huskily in his ear, assaulting his senses with her warm breath. His brain temporarily ceased to function, completely flabbergasted by what just happened, as his face sat there, lying in the dirt. His eyes picked up the food being put on the ground with the plate, and his ears picked up the sound of Lofn walking away.

"I wanted to do that for awhile. Enjoy your breakfast, Klaus." She giggled, followed by the hooting cacophony of laughter from the orks.

"Good show twig." he heard Bluddflagg said, followed by a muffled high five. On the outside, Klaus straightened himself out, and began to eat the rations quickly. Klaus inside was simply confused. Not embarrassed, not enraged, not disappointed. Confused. What just happened? And more importantly, why did he let it happen?

/

The Necron Lord stood there in the rain, his hands clasped behind his back, his staff of light kept in one hand. The cloak did provide beneficial protection against the rain, along with his protection of his identity. However, it was not travelers or local residents came over, looking him over like was a statue. He made a point of how he wanted to be left alone by simply amplifying his eyes glow to where it was nearly blinding, and then locking his gaze on those who were foolish enough to approach him,. This served well enough, as it was like looking directly in a sun, and soon, many left him alone, though some dumb bastards hung around The Necron Lord, testing his patience. It was endless. And soon, even the most stubborn of these entrepreneurs left him alone. His staff glowed dimly, seemingly projecting an aura of green energy around him.

 _Nightbringer_. He said, glancing at the shard. He could feel the ancient being stirring at the mention of his name.

 _What do you want?_ It asked him. He wanted to know this for awhile.

 _What is my name?_ He asked. The nightbringer did not respond for a bit.

 _Why the hell would I know?_ It replied back, and he shrugged mentally.

 _Though Lord of Metal is a good title, I wish to know my real name._ He said simply.

 _Well make a name up. I ain't your mother._ The Nightbringer said simply, before ending the conversation. The Necron Lord thought about it hard. Then, he had an idea. He thought of his good friend. A friend that died shortly before the bio transfer. The lucky one, in his opinion. Death was a much better fate than what he had now, and as so, he would never rest. He would never forget him. His name was Nebetaruk. And now, The Necron Lord had a new identity.

Nebetaruk, settled on his decision, turned around, to see Thelinda coming out of the inn, fully equipped with all of her gear.

"Greetings Thelinda. I predict we are ready to continue our voyage?" He asked, temporarily putting his thoughts away.

"Yes, Lord of Metal. We shall leave now." She said, before he put his hand up.

"I have given myself a new identity. Call me Lord of Metal no more. From now on, call me Lord Nebetaruk." He said. She simply nodded, as the two began to leave, heading towards the gate of the town.

"Lord Nebetaruk, I have a question." She asked, as she pulled up her hood, protecting her face from the rain, looking up to him. He merely nodded.

"Ask your question." He said calmly, his eyes never moving from hers. He noticed that her eyes were shaped like moons. Strange.

"You said that you were once mortal, but you then became… well, you." She said, gesturing to his body. He looked at himself reflexively, before back at her.

"What happened to you that made you like this?" She asked curiously. He considered his answer for a few moments, before he responded.

"We were once known as Necrontyr. We had short lives, as our sun slowly poisoning us. We met ancient beings known as the C'tan, and we gave them bodies to inhabit. We worshipped them like gods, and one day, they offered us Immortality. We accepted, but it came with a grievous price." He mumbled, and she looked him in the eyes.

"Your soul?" She asked, and he nodded.

"Not only that, but we became chained to their will. We became mere puppets, and they pulled at our strings. We became immortal, but we lost so much more." He said simply, trying to keep things from being too confusing.

"Imagine your friends and family. People you love, and care about. Now imagine, instead of the family and friends you know, are metal imposters. Imposters that no longer remember what they once were, but chain themselves to your will. They will do anything that you say, but they will never do what you wish. I wished that they could act like the friends and family I knew. They cannot. Long gone are friends and family, in their place are now lobotomised slaves." He said simply.

"Why weren't you one of them?" She asked. He merely sighed.

"Because I am royalty, and they were commoners. Their transfer was done with little care, while mine was more precise." He replied. She didn't ask any more questions, as they left the quaint little town of Auberdine, and started to head down the road.

/

Nurgle was pleased, as he came out of the formless wastes of the Immaterium. It was a neutral ground, where none of the warp deities held ground in. It was poker night. As usual, Khorne absolutely lost his shit when he went all in, and successfully lost his entire pot, who then strangled his favorite (or least favorite) stress reliever, Slaanesh, the god of pleasure and senses, who as usual, climaxed all over him, which succeeded in enraging him even more. Gork and Mork beat the absolute crap outta each other, and Khaine threw his money in to see who won. As normal, it was neither, as the two ork gods were too tired and beaten to throw more punches at each other, so the contest was undecided. Nurgle himself was decent at Poker, but not at the level of skill as The Emperor, Tzeentch, and the Deceiver, who were still playing, none of them getting an advantage in the mind twisting game. The Nightbringer, not a normal comer to the weekly poker games, showed up, but he seemed like he was occupied with something, seemingly phasing in and out of reality. The poker games was the Emperor's suggestion, something to relieve tension, something all of the gods and the C'tan certainly had quite a lot of. It was a pleasant change, and was something he looked forward for. He jiggled the bag of ingredients in his hand, eager to test them out in their effectiveness. He passed his beautiful gardens, filled with pus encrusted trees, and rotten fruits hanging from their stems. He picked a fruit, and ate it. He shivered in satisfaction,l as he could feel the diseased ridden fruit slosh around in his mouth, as he chewed the fruit. He spared the Plague Bearers who were tending his garden a glance, before he entered his palace. He giggled in delight, so many ideas for new plagues and diseases to try out. And who was better, than to try it out on his one and only test subject, the eldar goddess of healing and prosperity, Isha? He had saved Isha from the clutches of Slaanesh, being murder fucked into existence, like Khorne had saved Khaine, and perhaps, Tzeentch saving Cegorach. But that was only a theory. Although Nurgle would never say it aloud, he felt something for Isha, and it wasn't his normal joyfulness. . He walked deeper and deeper into his palace, going to his testing rooms, locking the massive gates behind him. He passed his plague caldron, putting all of his newest ingredients, getting out a large spoon to stir the ingredients together. He lit warpfire underneath his cauldron, as he began to spill out some bonding agents into the plague cauldron.

" **Oh Isha… I have returned…** " He said joyously, his massive rotten bulk jiggling in joy, as he turned around to see the goddess. He expected the woman to spare her a glance, before she prepared herself for the tests to come. Although she was immune to his pestilences, it still caused great discomfort to her. But then he paused. He looked in complete horror, at what had happened. She was gone. The chains and shackles that held her were broken, shattered like glass, and she was gone. How? Those chains were made from the finest metals from the Forge of Souls! How, how was this possible? He examined the chains, looking for any tracks, any signs for her escape! She must have been helped, but who would do it? Slaanesh maybe? No, he/she/it wouldn't so much as dare lay a finger upon her, lest he attract his wrath. And Nurgle was anathema to Slaanesh, as he simply defied what she wanted the most. Beauty. Khorne could have done it, but what would he want from her? Then, his two eyes something that he would never expect. It was a single blue eye, with a strange corona of energy shifting out of it. But he knew what it was. It was the Mark of Tzeentch.

" **TZEENTCH!"** He screamed out, a scream of anger and hatred that bounced throughout the warp itself, driving followers of chaos insane, sending daemons writhing in absolute pain and agony. What Nurgle could not hear was the chuckle of a certain C'tan, giggling in satisfaction, as he led a begging eldar goddess away from the plaguelands, and into a place that the chaos gods had never thought they could go.

Review Time

King Rocket: Hey, if you want I can make that a reality ;)

rc48177: I would say the Inquisition more then the Ecclesiarchy, but regardless...

RedRat8: Who wouldnt, lets be honest ;)


	27. Chapter 27: The Gretchin City

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH here!

Sorry for using bold, but I kind of need to :)

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

The city of Ratchet. Oh how badly did Klaus beg the emperor for canisters of promethium, and a lighter, he could not tell. Ratchet was like a massive zit that you had on your face, that you wanted to pop so badly, but you couldn't, otherwise you would risk something far worse. Ratchet was filled with xenos! And at least in Theramore, they had a healthy mix of humans. Xeno lovers they were, they could be punished, and taught to cease their errors. This, on the other hand was simply disgusting. Greenskins were everywhere! Short, Gretchin like creatures infested the town like a pox, as they entered the city gates. He gagged slightly, keeping it silent, as he looked around. It was like a xeno imitation of a hive city. Although he had never been to a hive city, he could draw comparisons. Except any layer of a hive city would contain millions of people, while Ratchet seemed to just get over ten thousand. However, the city seemed to be in constant motion. A shadow grew over him, and he looked up to see a large zeppelin fly over him, grains of sand pelting his face. He looked away, scanning the town some more, though he didn't like it.

"I would love to burn this place to the ground." He voiced silently, as he and the group of xenos scanned the city. He turned to face them, eyeing each and every one of them. The three orks seemed giddy, maybe to kill, maybe to loot. He didn't really care, as long as they stayed out of his way, and didn't drag him down into the shitter. The female ork and grey xeno looked around, mixed emotions on their face. The grey xeno did not show any emotion, and he had a tiny shred of respect for that. Lofn, on the other hand was unreadable, as she had her helmet on. He didn't mention what happened yesterday, and she seemed content on leaving it at that. He turned to her, and she noticed this. Although he didn't want to admit it, she was running the operation, and she knew it. She took great pleasure in bossing him around, something that he absolutely loathed. Here he was, a Korpsman, being bossed around by a xeno. The irony was so thick he could have drank it like fine amasec. Except it would have burned his throat like acid, and he would choke and die. Something that lately, he would rather enjoy.

"We should leave as quickly as possible, and get to Darnassus. The sooner I burn that foul relic of chaos into cinders, the better." He advised, but she shook her head promptly, and he gasped slightly. If he had anything to respect about the eldar, is that they hated chaos almost as much as humans. Perhaps more, but that was heretical. No one could hate the traitors more than humanity.

"The others need to rest a bit. We'll stay for a little bit, and then go out." She said. He narrowed his eyes. Though he saw it was foolish, perhaps the weaklings of the group required rest, and though he didn't want to admit it, he too wanted to take a break of walking. Even though he was superior than the xenos, he was still a human.

"Two days." He growled.

"Two weeks."

"Three days."  
"One week."

"Five days."

"Deal." She said, as they both turned to the group, as they refocused their attention back at the two.

"We will be staying in the city for five days. Return here at sunset in five days. I don't care what you do, just don't get yourself in trouble. We will pay for inn service." She stated. The group nodded, and they started to go their separate ways. Good, he thought. Unfortunately, there was still one xeno left. And that one was the most persistent xeno he had ever met. Something he both respected, and loathed for this one character trait alone.

"Inn service? You don't mean we are resting in this greenskin infested shithole?" He whispered.

"Unless you want to sleep outside the town, and perhaps get killed, then yes. Not the finest idea, but it's something." She replied back.

"You wouldn't let me sleep outside the city anyways." He snapped, and she shrugged.

"What can I say? I'm protective of my assets." She said, lowering her shoulders.

"I would prefer if you didn't say anything." He snapped back at her.

"Touchy?" She cooed, as they left the gates, heading to the nearest inn. They both caught their respective glares of suspicion from other goers, as they walked down the winding streets. Klaus didn't give a damn, nor did he want too, as they kept marching. They were silent, both soaking in the environment around them, but then Lofn stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulders.

"Listen." Lofn said suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts of how many canisters of promethium it would take to cover this world to exterminatus levels of purifying flame.

"I don't want you to get into any trouble." She said, before she leaned in close, her two red eye lenses staring into his soul. He wasn't intimidated, but backed up a slight bit. Lofn had recently seemed to adore physical contact with him, and it was something that he had to reluctantly, get used too.

"Therefore, anywhere you go, I go. I'm going to follow you wherever you go." She said, and he could practically hear her smile, and he could practically see the glare on her face. Of dominance.

"For your personal safety, of course. Nothing else but that." She added on, nervousness in her voice. He narrowed his eyes. He would not be so easily pacified.

"I can care take care of myself, witch." He growled, before he bumped into someone. He looked down to see an angry gnome, yelling profanities at him, the things that he carried in his hands scattered all over the road. He paid him no attention however, and walked past the yelling gnome, ignoring the curses he made of his non existent mother and siblings.

"See?" She asked, as he turned to look at her, this time on the other side of him. She had a rather annoying tendency to switch positions at random in a conversation.

"That did not prove anything." He replied firmly back.

"It proves that you don't watch your step." She replied back.

"You try looking for one foot abhumans." He replied, and she did not answer.

/

Khorne, the god of war, bloodshed, and skulls, sat on his skull throne, watching the intense fight in the pool of blood at the foot of his throne. Their, he watched as a grey knight paladin dueled a bloodthirster in head to head combat, and he was loving it. The duel had lasted awhile now, and both the daemon and grey knight were winded, but they still kept fighting. He would make a fine addition to his skull throne. After all, he always grew in size along with power. However, he suddenly got a rude awakening from the duel, as the door to his personal throne room slammed open.

" **KALDOR FUCKING DRAIGO, I SWEAR TO THE WARP ITSELF IF IT'S YOU…** " He snarled, looking up, but then stopped his rant, as the thing he least expected was waiting for him there. Nurgle. Nurgle as always, was looking like a sick bastard. He was like a meatball you left outside the fridge for twenty years, and then gave it legs and arms. His entire body was a sickly green, boils and zits pulsating like they were alive. His gut was ripped open, and intestines drooped on his rug, sewn together with the souls of the damned and the spines of the fallen. The skin on his face peeled back, revealing the skull within, and his eyes glowed an unholy green light. Maggots crawled out of his sickly mouth, picking his face clean. Flies surrounded him like an aura, digging into his flesh, and then out some. A thick puddle of pus formed at the base of his feet. Nothing he couldn't clean though. As the god of war, he had learned how to clean up after his messes quite efficiently. But that wasn't what worried him. Nurgle looked concerned, and it had been awhile since he fought Nurgle, hand to hand. Though Nurgle was by far, the oldest of the chaos gods, he could kick his fat ass all the way back to his own realm.

" **The fuck you want?"** He demanded in anticipation, cracking his non existent knuckles, an evil grin growing on his face. Nurgle shook his head, already knowing what Khorne wanted.

" **I have…. dire news. I come… to talk. Not… to fight"** He merely wheezed. Khorne sighed in disappointment, as he got up from his skull throne, stepping forward. He was also disappointed to see his bloodthirster banished into the warp. He would make the failed bloodthirster into a daemon weapon later. He had more important things to do.

" **Alright you fuckboy, hurry it up. Gotta kick Slaanesh's frilly ass later."** He said, looking at his calendar which he kept in his pristine set of armor, adorned at all times. Though time made no sense in the warp, he still had a general time of when to beat Slaanesh up. He/she/it was a good stress reliever, and he hated he/she/it anyways. What he hated, is that he/she/it always enjoyed it. As a matter of fact, lately he/she/it had been playing smooth jazz around the time he came to beat him/her/it up, and lit warpfire candles using souls of the damned as wax. He blamed 4th degree warp fuckery on that part, but it didn't stop him from pummeling he/she/it, or making he/she/it have an orgasm, another thing that he absolutely hated.

" **Tzeentch... has recently done... something grievous… Something that I cannot... forgive him for..."** He coughed, bile running down his lips, and Khorne, although the god of war, could sense sadness in his voice.

" **The indecisive mollusk? Yeah, go on, what the fuck did he do?"** He said, waving him forward. Khorne was not a god of patience.

" **He... has stolen Isha."** He said simply. Khorne narrowed his eyes. Out of all of the gods, he hated Nurgle the least, and this was because Nurgle was Nurgle. He didn't do shit, and he was happy all of the time. Seeing him sad was something he never thought he would see before.

" **You mean your captive?"** He added on, and he got a fiery glare from Nurgle.

" **I… er... wouldn't call her that."** Nurgle replied, and Khorne laughed.

" **After locking her ass up for ten millennia, feeding her all of your nasty ass concoctions, and never letting her leave?"** He chuckled heartily, but he could see Nurgle wasn't exactly lightening up at his attempts to humor him.

" **And you see… I fear that Tzeentch will give Isha to Slaanesh. Why, I don't know. But I... I… I fear for her."** He finally said. Khorne narrowed his eyes again. Slaanesh. He fucking hated Slaanesh, with a burning passion. Slaanesh was an absolute pussy, that would finger himself/herself/itself without a second thought. Maybe he could go kick his/her/its ass.

" **Keeping a tab on your trophy… I like that."** Khorne chuckled.

" **It's not like that… I need your help…"** He snapped in reply, his usual cheerfulness gone. Khorne narrowed his eyes.

" **I ain't helping you, you lazy piece of shit. Go handle your own problem."** He said, turning away, and began to walk to his skull throne. He still wanted to see how the cult was going in summoning his daemons into the realm of the Angry Marines. A fight he really wanted to see.

" **Coward…"** Nurgle mumbled. Khorne froze, and slowly turned around, red warpfire erupting from his eyes, blood seeping from the nooks and crannies of his ancient armor. His gloved and chained hand grabbed the handle of his favorite chainaxe.

" **What did you call me?"** He said, his voice but a whisper, but with so much malicious intent that would cause most to pause in fear. But Nurgle did not do that.

" **Coward. That's what I called you. For you... will not aid me in... a simple task, but instead hide behind your throne…"** Nurgle snapped back at him. Khorne snapped like a twig.

" **And what the fuck would you want me to do? We can't just go beat them up, as much as I would like too! The Black Crusade is coming up, retard!"** He said, pointing to the calendar that he had taken out. Nurgle then grabbed the calendar, and ripped it to pieces, then throwing the shreds of paper in his face. Khorne blinked. Nurgle was not known for outbursts of anger.

" **I DO NOT… HAVE TIME FOR THIS! EITHER ASSIST ME IN RESCUING ISHA FROM TZEENTCH ... OR SIT ON YOUR THRONE… AND ENJOY YOUR SKULL FETISH, YOU HALFWIT!"** Nurgle all but roared at him. Khorne was fuming, but also had great respect for Nurgle at this moment. Only Gork and Mork would dare piss him off, even though they were good friends. Friends, as in fighting buddies.

" **Alright you piece of shit. I'll think about it. Now get the fuck outta here. I got more fights to watch."** Khorne said, waving Nurgle out. Nurgle threw him one more glare at him, before he waddled out of the throne room, closing the massive doors behind him. Khorne suddenly rubbed his neck, embarrassed. Did he really have a skull fetish?

/

Nebeturak glanced at the forests as they marched. He could swear that he saw things moving, but even his advanced optic sensors could not register what the things were at all. Thelinda glanced at him, her hands clenching the bow tightly. He noticed this.

"Thelinda. My optic sensors are detecting movement within these woods. Is this natural?" He asked, as he scanned the woods once again, but he still got no fix on what these things were. They seemed to whisper things. Things that he could not register, nor understand.

"They could be ghosts." She said silently, as she too, looked through the woods.

"Ghosts?" He asked in confusion. She raised an eyebrow at him, before he explained.

"They are spirits of the fallen. They are tortured things, things that cannot realise that they are dead. They wander the physical world, seeking an end to their misery. Most of their pleas go unanswered, unfortunately." She said solemnly. He thought about this. So some souls did not get consumed by the warp? That was strange, but yet again in this realm, he doubted he could be surprised anymore.

"Do they fear anything?" He asked. This caused her to raise her eyebrow, before glancing back at him.

"Perhaps. Necromancers are known to drag these poor souls back into dead bodies, like corpses and skeletons." She replied, not too sure by herself. Nebeturak could draw lines to the bio transfer.

"Do these Necromancers reside in Darkshore?" He asked. She thought about it for a moment, but never answered, as a whispery voice came from the trees.

" _Help me…"_ It moaned. Nebetaruk spared the trees a glance, before he kept walking forward, while Thelinda tried to keep up.

"Why are we moving so fast?" She asked suddenly, and as he looked at her, he realized she was jogging. He too was jogging, though it did look like he was simply walking very fast. "To make up for lost time." He replied honestly, though it was only partly true. She realised this, but didn't push it anymore then necessary, as they kept moving.

"We should be careful. Satyrs and Naga are known to roam around Darkshore." She said. Nebetaruk took this into consideration.

"I only wish I had a Nightmare Shroud…" He mumbled to himself, noting the curious stare he got from Thelinda.

"Nightmare Shroud?" She asked curiously. He wondered if he should answer her, but he realised it didn't matter. He didn't have one on him anyways.

"It is a small cask, or barrel, for a lack of better words, that when opened, releases the worst nightmares of the offenders. It is a hallucinatory effect, that renders them completely frightful, and makes the bearer the embodiment of terror. A warrior's courage is put to the test, to the very limit. Those who are weak willed are rendered vulnerable, ready for slaughter." He explained curtly. She frowned slightly, looking away.

"Sometimes Lord Nebetaruk, I wonder what horrible things could happen to you that shaped you into this…" She replied, frowning slightly. Nebetaruk was honestly surprised. Very few have tried to see the good in him. In fact, he could count them all on his one hand. He had five fingers, last time he checked. He did not reply to her, as they kept walking, unaware of a pair of eyes stalking them. The cultist thought about what he had heard silently, before nodding, and moving on again quietly. They would make fine captives, and perhaps he would move up in the chain of the Twilight Hammer.

Review Time

King Rocket: Do not worry, I will explain this more as the story goes on. You simply cant just *kill* a god ;) And besides, im pretty sure this is a crack fic, though I never thought about it.

Kradonz: Thank you very much

Guest: The space marines will come, though it will be very late into the story

Commisar Carl: No, Isha will not join our merry band of adventurers, though something will happen to her. And in my opinion, if you are going to have romance with the Death Korps, you have to make them completely oblivious. No other way :)


	28. Chapter 28: Two Minds Think Alike

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

Nearly at thirty chapters, so thats pretty good :)

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Mista Nailbrain came into the expansive room, closing the door behind him. He had looked around for the office of the Mek called Gazlowe, and it lead him here. Sure, he nearly got robbed, but he had a great deal of fun kicking the robbers teeth in. He looked at the room around him, his big shoota strapped in a harness to his back. It was certainly nice. It had many bookcases all around the room, filled with novels and tomes. His two eyes then looked at a grot, sitting at the desk. Paperwork was scattered around him, and he looked up at Mista Nailbrain, smiling.

"Take a seat, Mista Nailbrain." The grot said, waving to a chair in front of the desk. Mista Nailbrain obliged, sitting down in the chair. However, he was very impatient. He had no time to much about.

"Alright ya grot. I'ze lookin fer a Mek called Gazlowe. Eiva foind ya boss, or go zog yerself." Mista Nailbrain growled, fumbling around with the screw in his mouth, scratching his beady cybork eye. The grot had a surprised look on his face.

"I dont know what a grot is kid, but your looking at him. Chief Engineer Gazlowe." He said, sticking out his hand. A silence so heavy followed, that they could actually hear the floorboards creak underneath them. Then Mista Nailbrain erupted in a howl of laughter. He laughed so hard that he fell out of his chair, snapping a wooden leg. Gazlowe sighed, rubbing his face. He had anticipated this. This lasted for roughly thirty seconds, before the Mek began to pull himself up, chuckling.

"Dats… Dats rich. Yooze funny, ya grot. Now, go get Gazlowe. I's gunna show em wot a reel mek looks loike." He said, interrupted by small chuckles. Gazlowe narrowed his eyes.

"Time is money friend, and I don't think you have either. Warchief Thrall told me all about you. I'm impressed." Gazlowe said, grinning wildly, as he took out a small fine wooden box from his desk. A cigar.

"Want one?" He asked, and Mista Nailbrain spat out his screw, and took a cigar. Though he still didn't believe the grot, who was he to deny himself a cigar? Gazlowe produced a lighter, and he lit the cigar for him, and Mista Nailbrain took a deep breath of the foul thing. It wasn't as good as a fungus cigar, but it was better than nothing.

"Neva imagined a grot ta be a Mek." He said, dabbing his cigar lightly with his hand, ashes falling on his squigskin boots. Gazlowe glanced at the forcey fields prongs, that stuck out a foot above his head.

"Whats with the totem? Religious?" He asked, gesturing to the prongs. Mista Nailbrain grinned wildly as he stood up, taking another drag from his cigar.

"Dis be a forcey field, or bouncee shield." He said, as he took out the primer for the forceyfield, a small detonator with a big red button. He pressed the button, and golden energy leaped thru and fro from the prongs, making a large bubble of golden energy around him. Gazlowe whistled

"Why's it called a bouncy shield?" He asked, and Mista Nailbrain gave him a evil grin.

"Why dont ya touch it?" He challenged. Gazlowe cautiously touched the bouncy shield, and was rewarded for his curiosity, as he was sent flying, the bouncee shield repulsing against his touch. Gazlowe was sent into his desk, and it snapped into pieces. Gazlowe gave a chuckle of laughter, as he rose himself up, wincing in pain at the bruises on his back, lighting his cigar.

"I got a business proposition for ya, Mista Nailbrain. If we do it, we'll both be bloody rich." Gazlowe grinned wildly, and Mista Nailbrain gave a hoot of laughter.

"I'm all ears grot." He said, as the two began to talk about money, engineering, and war.

/

Lofn lit the candles in the room, and sighed, taking a good look around. The room was expansive, and expensive. It had taken some mental persuading to get it to a reasonable price, and she was exhausted. Normally, it wouldn't even faze her, but the warp was so weak here it took nearly all of her concentration just to alter someone's thoughts a bit. Klaus sat on the bed, reading the book he called the primer, reading prayers. She frowned in her head. She had to get on his good side, as it would be no fun to travel with someone that hated you. The orks necessarily didn't hate others. As a matter of fact, they only liked their enemies, because they either got to kill them, or get killed by them. But Klaus was different, and she wanted to be on good terms with him. If that was even possible. Then, as he glanced at the book he had in his hand, she had an idea. It was a daring idea, but it was something she could try. She came over to him, and sat down next to him. He didn't even seem to mind, as he continued to pray in high gothic. She waited patiently until he was done, and she knew when he was for when she turned, Klaus was glaring at him. He had his mask off for once, something that surprised her. His cold blue eyes stared at her, and she couldn't help but get lost in them. It was like a blue abyss, and when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back. Literally, in a sense.

"What do you want from me now Lofn?" He sighed, his voice heavy with disdain. She prepared herself mentally for what was to come.

"Could I perhaps pray with you?" She asked shyly. His entire face changed entirely. Before he was scornful and prepared, ready to face whatever request or demand she had wanted from him. Now, he was completely surprised. Obviously, he had not been expecting that. He rubbed his ears with his hands, before looking back at her.

"Repeat what you said. Slowly." He demanded, and she obliged.

"Could I pray with you?" She asked again, slowly, like he said. He rose an eyebrow.

"Since when did you become interested in the Imperial Creed?" He asked, though his voice showed no malicious intent.

"My father always talked about it, and sometimes prayed, though I never asked." She said simply. He narrowed his eyes, and snorted.

"The xeno does not deserve to defile the Imperial Cult. Begone, and leave me." He growled. She wouldn't give up so easily.

"Don't abhumans worship the Imperial Cult?" She asked suddenly. He stared at her for a moment, before looking away.

"This is correct." He said simply. _Got him._ She thought to herself, as she continued.

"And what do you define as an abhuman?" She asked him. He glanced back at her.

"Abhuman translates to away from human. Simply, stable strains of mutants and hybrids, that differ in slight characteristics. Like Ogryns, for example." He replied. She smiled. She had him where she wanted.

"And since I am not fully one hundred percent Eldar, but not fully human either, doesn't that classify me as an abhuman?" She asked, giving him a devious grin. He didn't dare meet her gaze, and looked away.

"Possibly, but abhumans are still considered lesser than humans." He retorted, glaring back at her with a glare full of hatred, but she saw something else, that completely shocked her. Admiration. Did he… admire her? For what? How she found a loophole in his extreme xenophobia? Was it just her in general, or her actions? This got her slightly excited. She was getting somewhere.

"But when an Abhuman wants to learn of the Imperial Creed, wants to serve the emperor, would you deny them?" She asked. He clenched his fists so hard she swore she heard his knuckles crack.

"No." He spat, before he took out the primer, and they began to say prayers together. Even though Lofn didn't really know what they were saying, she only had one thought in her head. One step closer.

/

Bluddflagg took a nice, long drag from his massive cigar, dabbing it lightly. Ashes fell on his large boot, and he kicked it off. Clea stood next to him, as they watched as even at night, the streets were still busy, as occupants rushed from vendors and stores. Clea was bamboozled by the massive ork. He and the others were powerful. Very powerful. She had seen first hand what the orks were capable of, and she had high expectations of what to expect from the two lovebirds, who resided in the nearby inn. They had the power to carve entire kingdoms in their names. Many would flock to them, seeking protection and glory. They could RULE Azeroth, and she didn't need too much proof to believe this. But it seemed like they didn't care about that at all! They had some other objective in mind, something that was driving them. And she would find out. She had yet to give her report to the Dark Lady, something she silently cursed herself at. She would do it later, not outside the tavern in front of so many others.

"So Bluddflagg. What drives you?" She asked, beginning the interrogation. Bluddflagg raised an eyebrow, as he looked down upon her, his massive bulk nearly blocking out the moonlight entirely.

"Wot?" He asked, his two ragged ears twitching, and she groaned.

"What drives you to work with the half elf and human?" She asked more forcefully.

"Oh." He said, turning away, looking at the moon. He didn't say anything for three agonising seconds, before he replied.

"Da eldar promised me and da boyz da biggest foight weze eva seen. And den, we get ta loot da whole bloody field! Iz loike a dreem, Dark Ranga." He said, taking another drag from his cigar, idly playing with the massive metal teeth that adorned the metal jaw that was bolted to his face, known as a iron gob. So he was driven because he was promised a fight, and loot. She smiled slightly. It wouldn't take much to manipulate him.

"And what happened if the fight wasn't up to your expectations?" She asked. He mumbled something under his breath, before he replied.

"Yoo see, Dark Ranga, da orks is made for war. When we dont got nobody ta krump, we start foighting each uvva. Manee a mutiny 'appened under me eye when da krew aint got nuffin to foight. Da Kaptain suffas from dis too." He said, putting his hand on his chest, before he paused, as if thinking of something.

"Less Daemons get on da krooza. Den its fun." He grinned wildly. This made sense, as she took another long glance up and down his body. The ork needed a bath, and badly.

"But its still a foight. Ta be honest wiff ya Dark Ranga, oiz bored. While Spookums gets 'is nicks by being a sneeky back stabba, and Mista Nailbrain does 'is zoggin krazy invenshuns, oi's left wiff nuffin." He said solemnly, before looking back at his cigar.

"I doo got me sum fungus cigars and some fungus beer, but dat'll only last so long... I wish I had me a grot ta kick." He added on, as he blew several rings of smoke. He grinned at his work, before taking another drag.

"There are fight clubs and gladiatorial arenas here. Perhaps that will soothe your thirst for war?" She suggested. He whipped around with such frightening speed that she jumped. She had definitely not expected such agility from such a massive creature. He chuckled at her surprise, squinting at her with his one remaining eye.

"I dun trust ya, Dark Ranga. But I'll give ya one fing. Yoo's leed me to a scrap, den maybe I'll put a bit more trust in ya. Da boyz always gotta stick togevva." He said simply.

"I'm not a male." She said, confused, and he chuckled, clapping her lightly on the back, not only ruffling her cloak, but nearly sending her flying. She had not predicted such strength from him. He was stronger than a tauren!

"Foine den. Da krew always gotta stick togevva, no matta da sitooashun." He said, before he looked back at the moon, taking another drag from the cigar.

"But why do you listen to the human and half elf? Surely, you can defeat both of them with little trouble, right?" She asked, trying to inflate his ego. Many men wanted to be the dominant one in the pack. The alpha. To this, he shrugged, his massive shoulders rolling up the mountain of scrap he called armor.

"I'm gettin paid ta do dis. I dun give a flyin grot bout wot dose two runts do." He said, before he threw the cigar down at his feet, crushing it underneath his boot.

"But I'll warn ya pasty git." He said, leaning in real close, getting down on one knee to get to eye level. And even then, she had to crane her neck up in order to look in his one red eye.

"Deys part of me krew now, wevva dey loike it er not. And if ya even lay a finga on dem…" He whispered, chuckling lightly, before he snatched her by the neck. She gasped at his agility yet again, as she clawed at the massive hand that held her neck. She didn't necessarily need to breathe, but being choked by a seven foot ork, that was as wide as a door was not on her bucket list. He rose up to his full height, hoisting her up into the air.

"Den dere aint no place yoo can hoide, fore I get me hands on ya. And lemme be cleer…" He said, bringing her very close to his face, in which her two red eyes absorbed his facial features. Scars crisscrossed his face like patchwork, stitches and holes everywhere. He had a golden ring through his nose, and a massive golden tusk threatened to impale her, if not for the massive iron god, obsidian black metal teeth glinting in the moonlight menacingly. But she looked in his one eye, and saw so many emotions in that cloudy red orb, she couldn't name them all.

"I aint gunna stop till yer ded, and den sum." He growled, before dropping her to the ground. She rose up slowly, to see the dual barrels of his massive firearm, pointed right at her head. She looked up at him fearfully, to see a wide grin on his face.

"We cleer, git?" He asked, and she nodded. He stowed away his massive shoota, looking back at the tavern.

"Gud. Now let's get da zog inside. Iz getting cold, and I need sumfing ta drink." He said, and she rubbed her neck slightly, as the two walked inside the tavern once more. Clea was not harmed on the outside, but something grew inside of her, something that festered within her soul. Respect.

/

Nebetaruk peered into the darkness, putting his optic sensors to the very limit. Unfortunately, Necrons did not have Night Vision, and as so, he had trouble trying to see in the darkness. Thelinda, had no such problems, but she was sleeping at the moment, lying in the soft grass. While he did not require rest, she sure did. After all, she was a mortal, and he was no longer one. This darkness was proving to be detrimental in his ability to keep guard. He did produce some light by himself, the green energy within him making a soft aura of light, but it did not reach far, and if anything, made him a beacon in the darkness. He stood there, constantly surveying the woods. He did not like this night elf, but he made a vow to protect the denizens of the realm from the ruinous powers, after the Nightbringer described the horrible things their followers were so eager to do. And he would protect her. Suddenly, he detected movement. His audio receptors picked up the sounds of twigs snapping and leaves being crumpled, and his superior optical sensors, far more powerful than a mere mortal, detected something moving in the shadows. He did not dismiss it, but watched it closely. He knew there were wildlife in these forests, but that was not an excuse. He clutched his staff tightly, taking another quick scan of the woods, looking through the underbrush and foliage. Suddenly, robed figures burst from the woods, clutching weapons. An ambush, it appeared. He was a Necron Lord, and he knew strategy. The best way to deal with an ambush is to retaliate with appropriate force. He did not hesitate, as he fired the gauss attachment. Bursts of green energy shot from the staff, striking several of the figures. They screamed, as they were flayed alive in front of all of their comrades. However, the others did not hesitate, and charged him.

"Thelinda. Awake! We are under attack!" He roared, as he leaped into the mob, breaking a creature's neck with one of his feet. The force of the leap forced his opponents back, and he did a quick count of the opposition. His optic sensors dictated that their were roughly twenty of these foes, and his logic engine dictated the most successful battle plan. He came into them, using his staff like a scythe. The mono-molecular sharp prongs on the staff cut through flesh with pleasuring ease, as he cut a foe in half. It let out a cry, as the staff swept through its spinal cord, severing its tether to its legs, and it collapsed. An axe dug into his shoulder plate, the Necrodermis already reforming, as he swiped with his free hand, sending several figures flying, his artificial strength strong enough to fling mortals with ease.

A blow that Nebetaruk did not see coming struck him straight in the neck. His head was sent flying, and his optical sensors saw his body fall to its knees. But he was not defeated. The lightning field activated, and electrocuted several of his foes, as his body grabbed his head. The phylactery glowed, as nano scarabs swarmed out, reconnecting the joints and platings that connected his head to his neck. His arms screwed his head back on, as the nano scarabs finished patching the wound. The foes seemed completely fazed, and that was their mistake, as he attacked them once more. They snapped out of it quickly, and returned the favor. An arrow whistled past his head, digging into the eye of another enemy. He briefly saw Thelinda firing arrows into the mass, even though she quickly became surrounded. He fought to her, simply walking past the figures with barreling speed. Warnings flared, and he ducked under a blow that would have decapitated him. Again. More and more blades and spears dug into his metal skin, ripping his cloak. Soon, there were too many to simply ignore, and he was forced to fight, or risk being simply dragged down in a seething tidal wave of flesh.

 _Wanna release me?_ The Nightbringer asked. Nebetaruk did not have time to address the Nightbringer, as he beheaded an enemy, before parrying a blade, driving his staff into someone's stomach. He did not look into their eyes, as he ripped out his staff, before swiping his free hand again, breaking skulls and bones with his artificial strength.

 _These foes are tireless… Yet so am I..._ He thought to himself, as he sweeped his staff in a complete circle, cutting the legs off of around eight enemies. They cried in pain, as they suddenly lost control of their knees, as they crashed onto the ground. He did not have time to dispatch them, as he parried another blow, completely ripping off the arm of the offender, before he swiped his staff, making a clean decapitation. He heard a scream that made him pause, and turn around. Their was Thelinda, bound together with ropes and chains, being carried away. She had fought valiantly, and the corpses of seven foes proved this, but she had been captured! Those spineless cowards! They were fleeing! He fired the Gauss attachment, bringing down several more of his enemies, trying to not hit Thelinda herself, but they were long gone, running with all of their might, Thelinda screaming in the distance. Nebetaruk cursed, as he began to give chase, not finishing off the dying enemies lying around him. He knew that he could not hope to chase them down, as he was too slow. He suddenly had an idea, and prepared the Mindshackle scarabs for activation, as he quickly doubled back to the cultists that were still living. If he couldn't catch up to her, then he would know where they would go, and get there himself. And he would hunt them down. After all, he was no oath breaker.

Review Time

Kradonz: Thank you very much!

Guest: Im pretty sure thats not how it works... but regardless...

rc48177: Dark Eldar and Nids wont be in the story, for rather obvious details :)

RedRat8: Thank you very much!


	29. Chapter 29: The Descent

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

So here is chapter 29. We are almost at 100k words, and almost at thirty chapters. Thats pretty good!

In addition, chapters will be longer after chapter thirty, whether this will affect the upload schedule or not has not been decided.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Klaus opened his eyes groggily, rising up. He felt like he got run over by a baneblade, then a chimera, and then a land raider, and his legs were aching. He needed to stretch them out a bit, he thought to himself, as he scratched the back of his neck. He looked up, and then regretted it. His eyes picked up what was happening around him, and it took roughly three seconds to decipher the information streaming into his brain. First, his wargear was nowhere to be seen, and he was only wearing his lower undergarments. Second, he felt that he was pretty hungry, as he did not have dinner yet. Third, Lofn was changing in front of him. She noticed this too, and screamed, covering her bare breasts. Luckily, she was still wearing some clothes, so everything below her waist was still covered. That still did not help him however, as he groaned, covering his ears. He must have been drinking, or something. To be honest, all he wanted was to go back to sleep.

"Please do not scream…" He mumbled in pain, as his ears were ringing from her scream. He rubbed them, but it only made it worse. This did not soothe the woman, as she still looked at him, completely shell shocked. Her complete surprise transformed into seething rage, so bad that an Angry Marine would give her a cold one to chill the fuck out.

"What the hell are you doing?!" She asked in fury, giving him the mother of all death glares. He narrowed his eyes, looking back up at her, relieved to see that her hands had not moved. Otherwise, he simply would have puked.

"The real question is what the hell are YOU doing?" He retorted, and she huffed, as she turned away from him, grabbing what appeared to be a shirt.

"I went to the market and got some new clothes, and I decided to try them on." She snarled at him, slipping the new shirt on her frame, sparing Klaus the thoughts that lingered in his head.

"How? I do not remember you acquiring any funds…" He mumbled, as he looked around for his shirt, getting up from the bed. Then he realized that he had slept on the bed, and not on the floor like planned. He REALLY must have been drinking. Lofn turned around, giving him a devious smile. This was something that Klaus was starting to notice. It was known that eldar experienced emotions more fiercely, but it seemed that no matter what Klaus did, Lofn always managed to smile it out. He took it as a personal challenge before to try to make her not smile for more than five minutes. He had yet to beat his record of two minutes and three seconds.

"I didn't have any gold… but you did." She smiled, giggling, as she turned away, smoothing out her clothes. He thought about what she meant for a moment, before realizing what that meant. His mind screamed out for justice, but he ignored it. It would do neither of them no good, he told himself, as he slipped on his shirt on.

"You stole from me?" He said, simply too tired to be angry at the moment. She shrugged, as she finished smoothing out her shirt, and quickly fixed her hair.

"I wouldn't call it stealing if you weren't going to use it in the first place." She said simply, as she turned around, making a gesture similar to bowing. He took a good long look at her. Her normal black and white robe were replaced with other clothes with a similar color scheme. Instead of her robes, sewed with wraithbone armor, it was replaced with a tight fitting shirt and pants. She carried her family gemstone around her neck in a braided chain as usual, and she had adjusted her hair, looking slightly brighter than normal, and more organized. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders neatly like a brown waterfall. Although as usual, several strands stuck out at the top like capillary towers. She wore new black leather shoes that hugged her feet tightly. Lofn smiled coyly, as for exactly five seconds, Klaus looked over her form, his eyes running up and down her body.

"Like what you see?" She cooed, and he shook himself out of it. She did look good, but he would rather bathe in the plague lords cauldron then say it aloud.

"It depends what you're asking about." He said simply, as he rose up, feeling naked without his greatcoat and gasmask. He looked around for his wargear, before his eyes settled on Lofn. As if she had read his mind, she gestured to the far side of the room, where his wargear was organized neatly. His greatcoat was folded as best as it could, though the integrated carapace armor proved it difficult. His helmet and gasmask were piled neatly on top of each other, the golden tinted lenses staring back at him. His lasgun was propped up in the corner, as well as his chainsword and sheathe. He went over, grabbing his lasgun and chainsword, and was about to start buttoning his greatcoat on, when she stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I thought that it would be best not to wander around the town when in full wargear." She said simply. He shook his head. The foolish xeno, abhuman… whatever she was classified now was smart, but not wise.

"You must always be vigilant, always aware. The foe can strike from anywhere." He reprimanded her, and she groaned, covering her face.

"I hate when you do that…" She mumbled, her hands pulling down her face to comical levels, earning her an inquisitive smirk from Klaus.

"The feelings mutual." He replied back, and she grinned.

"Feisty, aren't we?" She retorted, and he ignored the implied insult, not noticing the subtle hint in her words. He put the lasgun over his shoulder, and attached the sheathe and chainsword to his pants, tying it tightly like a belt.

"So what shall we do today?" He asked, and as if to answer, his stomach let out an unholy roar, that they both paused, both looking at the same place. This lasted for an awkward five seconds, before their gaze met. They stared at each other for a few moments, before the silence was broken.

"That settles it." She smiled, as she offered her hand. He reluctantly took it, reminding himself to cleanse it later, as she led him out of their room, and into the xeno infested city once more.

/

Spookums was concerned of the mental health of Mista Nailbrain. Ever since that one battle with the bloo gits, where Mista Nailbrain took a bloo dakka round to the head, and lost his eye, along with a quarter of non essential brain matter, and part of his skull, he was a bit on the crazy side. That was putting it lightly really. Calling Mista Nailbrain crazy wasn't doing him justice. Calling him insane, was the more appropriate word. Most of the Meks and Big Meks on the kill krooza refused to work with him, and even some painboyz were hesitant to work with him. Spookums always kept an eye on the Kaptain's First Mate. Being the Leader of the Kaptain's kommando band, or as he called them, the "dose sneeky weesels." it was kind of his job to keep an eye on the rest of the krew anyways. Mista Nailbrain never seemed to stop surprising him. Things that he said or thought literally came out of the blue, though

However, when Mista Nailbrain kicked the door to his inn room down, foaming from the mouth, jumping up and down like a squig who drank a keg of fighty juice, he was severely worried about his partners mental health.

"OIYAGITDAMEKDACALLEDGAZWLOEHEMADEMEADEELANDWEZGONNAGETLOZZAMONEEIFWEDOWOTHESAYSANDMAKESUMSHOOTASFORKILINBADPASTEEGITSAINTDISEXCOITINGORKITYMORKITYDISIZZOGG-" Spookums heard from Mista Nailbrains frothing gob, until he decided to make this easier on him. He put some energy in his fist, and swung. The uppercut was brutal, and sent Mista Nailbrain flying into the already damaged door. It snapped into three equal halfs, and Mista Nailbrain howled in surprise and pain, as dozens of splinters were shoved into his rump.

"UN WORD AT A TOIME YA GIT!" Spookums roared, winding another punch.

"DAT AINT GUNA BE NECESARY!" Mista Nailbrain yelped, holding up a hand, as with the other, he started to yank the splinters out of his ass.

"Den speek up already, fore I force sum more teef outta ya." He growled, pleased that his show of dominance was more than enough to calm down the Mek.

"Alroight, alroight, lissen up. Da Gazlowe git, hes a grot by da way, ee said dat Warboss Thrall, ee needs sum shootas. Da boyz dun have enugh woody shootas, so dey need me ta make da reel kit, and not da trash da uvva gits ave. Deys givin alot of dat shiny coins. Gold, I fink deyz call it, if we do it." He explained shortly, getting giddy simply by mentioning the work. Spookums processed the thought.

"Oi, dun we have ta help da Kaptain guard da oomie?" Spookums asked, raising an eyebrow. Mista Nailbrain furrowed his remaining eyebrow, shrugging.

"I aint got no zoggin kloo. Yooze sayin dat we bring dis infermashun to da Kaptain?" He asked, and Spookums nodded.

"Da Kaptain aint gunna be happy dat yer gone wiffout 'i'm knowin. May fink yer lost." Spookums advised. Mista Nailbrain yanked out the final splinter with a yelp, and looked at it, realising it was one of his teeth.

"Souvie!" Mista Nailbrain grinned, stowing it away in his sack.

"Lezz go foind da kaptain. Ee shuldnt be hard ta foind." Spookums said, and Mista Nailbrain let out a cry of excitement, jumping like a happy grot, as he leapt out of the room. Spookums looked back at the shattered door, and stood there for a few moments. He then got rid of the thoughts he had in his head.

"Zog it. Da oomie will fix it." He said, trying to run after his possibly crazy partner.

/

Nebetaruk glanced at the tracks, one more time, verifying that his new memory of the Twilight's Hammer cult location was. He looked back up, as he began to stride forward, coming to the ancient ruins. He had been walking as fast as he could for three days straight, and he silently prayed that he was not too late. It was quite a long march from Darkshore to the region known as Ashenvale, but it was all he could do. He spared the ruins a quick look. It looked like a temple or shrine, held together with six pillars. The pillars bore moss and leaves like tapestry's, the cracks on the pillars telling their own stories. He had to give credit where it was due, the kaldorei certainly had a thing for architecture. It reminded him of the eldar, and their similarly beautiful architecture. He narrowed his eyes mentally at this. Those creations of the old ones, and the old ones in general, he despised them. If he was anywhere else, he would have stalked the world, finding those spoiled brats and flay them alive. However, the situation had changed, and as a result, so had he. The irony was so rich, he could order scarabs to mine it for ore.

He walked forward, taking cautious steps, and noticed a large pool of water in the center of the shrine. He looked down, and realised with a start that the staircase down was completely submerged. Crystal clear waters greeted him, and his optic sensors judged that the pool was roughly eighty feet deep. Blackfathom Depths, was luckily, not completely submerged in water, though it was partly flooded. He looked at his already tattered cloak, and sighed, as he walked to the other side of the ruined shrine, to where the staircase began. He discarded his sandals, putting them gently on the temple floor, before cautiously taking a step into the water, his foot planting itself on the first step. Of course, he no longer had a spine to feel physical sensations, so he couldn't tell if the water was cool or not, but that was not what he was worrying about. It was if he would get harmed by the water. He took another cautious step forward, and then another, and then another, until he realised that he was submerged in the clear waters. He ordered a system check from the nano scarabs. They scuttled out of the phylactery, hanging on for dear life as he continued to walk/swim down the staircase.

It was incredibly silent, nothing but the chittering of the nano scarabs and the muffled sound of his footsteps against the spiraling staircase to accompany himself. Then, he got a report. He read it over, and shrugged mentally. His mobility systems were slowing down, but it was because of the water. When he got out, he would demand another system check. One of his eyes picked up a nano scarab squirming in the water, as it lost its grip on his body. He snatched it with his free hand, the other tightly clutching the staff. He was rather surprised of how slow his hand seemed to move, as he caught the nano scarab, and planted it back in the Phylactery. The pressure was starting to become a problem, but their wasn't much he could really do about it. Why was he doing this anyways? Was it really for he had made an oath? Was it something more? Other royals would laugh, or be disgusted by how merciful he was to the mortals, and perhaps they were right. Perhaps it was justified.

He disregarded these thoughts, as he continued to descend down the staircase. Strange looking fish swam in the water, sparing him glances, before moving on. He took one step after the other, slowly, but with purpose. He could not swim, and he feared that if he fell and sank, he would be trapped. He reprimanded himself of the thought, and then chastised himself shortly after. Fear was for cowards, and he was no coward. Filling himself with vigor, he continued to descend down the staircase, and face the horrors within with a blank face.

/

Cegorach looked in unhidden disgust and joy, as the apparition of the deceiver clutched a panicked Isha in his two hands, carrying him to him. Cegorach no longer resided in the warp, as he had long fled it after the birth of the dark prince. He now resided in the twisting webway. And now, so did Isha.

"Excellent work." a psychic apparition of the emperor said, clapping slowly. He projected himself as the emperor of old, before he became a crip in a golden wheel chair. Dressed in his usual golden armor, and a golden halo of light hanging over his luscious black hair.

"It was rather easy…" The Deceiver grinned, his bronze body shrugging Isha off of his shoulders, and into the hands of Cegorach.

"Fear not…" He whispered to her, his hands brushing her ethereal hair.

"Let's just hope the plan goes correctly… chaos forces have been pushing against us too hard…" The emperor said, and Cegorach could not help but agree. The forces of chaos had made an unprecedented surge in activity. The 13th black crusade was in full swing, and massive casualties on both the side of Imperium and the forces of chaos. In addition, many more chaos raids were being conducted on eldar territory, more souls being sent into the perverted hands of the dark prince. Isha weeped, knowing too well of the death of her children.

"Do not worry… we have conducted the plan to the letter." Cegorach giggled, followed by The Deceiver. The plan was simple. Get the chaos gods to fight among each other, and buy the mortals more time to conduct the operation. It was played masterfully, however, each characteristic of the four taken into consideration. Nurgle cared for Isha, and the mark of Tzeentch would allow Nurgle to think that Tzeentch had stolen her. However, since Tzeentch can both lie and tell the truth, Nurgle would never believe him if he was telling the truth. Khorne, who hated both Tzeentch and Slaanesh with burning passions, would side with Nurgle in the conflicts to come.

"They will realize the plan soon enough. It is only a matter of time." The emperor said, and Cegorach shrugged, smiling. "It is a matter of time… but I'm counting on it…" Cegorach smiled, giggling intently. What a show this would prove to be, and here he was! In the front seat!

Review Time

p020901: I do agree that I could edit the story a bit more... but I am quite the lazy fellow. Anyways, Im happy you enjoy!

Guest: Nurgle will be there to protect his assets... if you know what I mean.

AlienLizard: Thank you very much! Wanted to spice things up a little bit.

Guest: I do not intend to add the tau, but its a possibility

rc48177: As said above, i dont intend to add tau, but its a possibility

AncientRaig: Fluff is very inconsistent when it comes to the strength of Necrodermis, but hurting a Necron isnt that hard. Keeping one down, is a whole different story. As so, I decided to make Nebetaruk not grossly overpowered, and try to make it so that some things could actually threaten him.

RedRat8: It will only get worse for one, and better for the other, as time goes on ;)


	30. Chapter 30: The Slaughter

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

Anyways, alot of gore in this chapter.

Of course, you sick fucks dont mind...

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Nebetaruk hoisted himself out of the pool of water, lightly shaking himself clean of water. It cascaded down his slick metal frame, dripping off onto the ancient stone ground. His robes were thoroughly soaked however, and it appeared that the Nightbringer did not like the impromptu shower, as he was screaming profanities at him. He ignored the shards yells of rage, as he demanded a system check from the Phylactery. He took a long look at the cavern that he had entered. It was very dark, the only thing providing lights were strange, floating blue wisps of energy. He cautiously approached one, and reached out for it. It burst like a grenade, his optic sensors being assaulted with a bright light, as the wisp disappeared. He glanced around, and could see it appearing on the other side of the cavern, humming so quietly, he barely registered it was making noise.

 _Strange…_ he thought to himself, as he began to walk forward, his staff clinking against the rock floor. He got his system report, and read it slowly. It seemed that in order to keep himself from suffering cataclysmic damage, he had automatically shut down non essential systems. His relics were currently inactive. His teleporter charm, lightning field, phase shifter, and mindshackle hive were offline, but would reboot themselves later. Strangely, his voice box was working. Why, he didn't really know. As he kept walking, he noticed strange snake like creatures, slithering around in the tunnels. The top half of them seemed humanoid, while the bottom part of them were serpentine in nature. He checked his databases, and scanned through them. Soon, he came up with results. Naga, they were called. Once elves, they since had mutated into these serpent like forms. He ignored them, as he kept walking past them, as they slithered around, doing their own business. He would rather not risk a confrontation. Luckily, he was well hidden, thanks to the darkness that enveloped the caverns, and his already dark shell and robes. He walked for roughly thirty minutes, before he came across a small chamber. His interest suddenly peaked at what he saw. First, he saw two figures, with a ring of corpses around them. Murlocs, if the database served him correct. Second, the two figures appeared to be night elves. He scanned their facial features, then compared them to his memories of Thelinda. They did not match. He sighed, as he cautiously approached the two figures. They noticed him, one of them cringing in fear, while the other opened his eyes widely.

"The… The… Lord… of Metal?" He barely breathed. Nebetaruk sighed. The title was good, but he would prefer his name more. Regardless, he had some information, and he would get it out of them.

"Yes, I have arrived." He said simply not wishing to gloat more than he had too. The other kaldorei looked at him in complete confusion, looking at him up and down.

"Please Lord of Metal! You must help us! We barely escaped the sacrificial altar, and the Twilight's Hammer is coming for us! They are feeding innocents to an ancient beast of the old gods themselves!" The other cried out. He took the information in. He had to hurry, otherwise Thelinda would not be alive for long. And if anything, the Twilight's Hammer already knew that he was here, and would send forces to deal with him.

"This information is well appreciated. Fear not, I will rescue as many as I can. I suggest you stay here for now. I cannot guarantee your safety if you come along…" He ordered. The two nodded, as he began to leave. Then, something ran into the chamber. It was an armed cultist, and was rather surprised to see him. Then, he saw fear in its eyes. A new recruit perhaps, as others would have been much more zealous. Nebetaruk did not have such problems, and fired the gauss attachment. He was happy that his staff did not take damage from his trek into the depths, as a bolt of green energy slashed into the cultist. The cultist screamed in unimaginable pain, as he was flayed alive in front of the two elves. They cringed in fear, as they watched as his skin simply disappeared in front of them. And then his muscles, and then his bones, until he was simply nothing.

"Yo… You… Monster!" One of them cried, and he spared them a quick look, looking at the female Kaldorei who dared speak against him. If he was more arrogant, his staff would already be stained with her blood. But he was no arrogant snob. If that was what she thought of him, so be it. She was entitled to her opinion, though this put her on his bad side.

"A necessary evil." he replied curtly, as he sensed more intruders incoming. He marched himself forward, as he prepared himself for battle once again. Five cultists charged at him, brandishing an assortment of melee weapons. Spears, clubs, swords, axes, the usual. He fired the gauss attachment on his staff of light, killing two of them, before the other three got into melee. However, they were horribly outclassed, as he quickly slaughtered them. His staff cut through them like a scythe through weeds, his staff slicing off limbs and heads with no resistance. He received a good whack to the head from a club, but he ignored the blow, as he continued to strangle a cultist with one hand, his metal hand ripping its frail throat. Blood washed down its neck, completely covering his robes sleeve and his hand in arterial fluid. He threw the corpse at the last remaining cultist, and heard the satisfying crack of a spine being broken, as they both tumbled to the ground.

"These foes are pathetic…" he mumbled to himself, as he kept marching. He encountered more cultists, but one of them looked different. He was dressed in lavish robes, similar to himself, though with a different color scheme. He carried a small dagger in one hand, and a short staff, or wand in the other. He was rewarded for his curiosity, as a bolt of ice was flung at him. The ice bolt shattered against his shoulder, though tearing a hole in his cloak. He let out a metallic hoot of laughter, as he slayed the cultists with no difficulty. He swept a cultists legs off, and as the body fell on the floor, he stomped on its head. It was crushed like a berry, and greymatter and chips of bone splattered against his face. Blood that managed to seep through his mouth slit only added to his terrifying effect, as the blood cascaded down inside his shell, dripping down to his legs. He killed the mage with a crushing swipe. The mage did not have time to scream, as the staff cut into his skull vertically, making a clean cut as Nebetaruk dragged the staff down. It went down the cultists neck, through his ribcage, then his hips, until the staff was ripped out from right below the man's legs. He admired his handy work, as the cultists body fell into two equal halves, the body(ies) twitching.

 _Thats some fine work. I bet I can do better though._ The Nightbringer commented, chuckling lightly.

 _Quiet you._ Nebetaruk snarled back at him, as he continued his path of slaughter.

/

Clea watched the fight happening between her eyes with morbid fascination and interest, as Bluddflagg simply clobbered the troll. The fight was horrendesly one sided. The troll had skill, but Bluddflagg had raw strength and incredible pain tolerance. Bluddflagg and Clea had been kicked out of every fight club they had visited so far, simply because Bluddflagg was so… brutal. The only fightclub that accepted their presence was one of the most brutal ones, one that was completely illegal. It was protected however, by the owner Zeex Pickaxe, who had several corrupt politicians in his pocket. Clea was impressed by the orks strength. He obviously had very little skill in his swings, no thoughts taken into it. But his strength was more than enough to compensate. It warmed her heart as she watched the massive ork grab the Troll by the throat with one hand, and with the other, broke the troll's tusk's into pieces. It howled in pain, as Bluddflagg forcefully de-tusked the troll, and then threw the troll down to the ground. The troll was dragged away, to be healed by the nearest shaman. He gave one last look at the troll, before glancing at his new trophies, admiring the two ivory tusks in his hand, before he began to look into the crowd of yelling and cheering hooligans. She realised with a start that he was looking directly at her.

"CLEA! KATCH!" He roared, as he swung his arm, lobbing the tusks at her. She yelped, as her instincts told her to roll out of the way. The tusks soared into the air, making a perfect arc, as they lodged themselves firmly in the wooden chair where she was just a few moments ago. She was honored by the seeming gift, and she held the tusks up, giving a warcry. The crowd around her cheered, applauding. Zeex grinned wildly at her, flashing her a gold toothed grin, as he looked back at the reigning champion. He had earned quite a lot of money because of Bluddflagg, and was rather surprised when he asked Bluddflagg if he wanted payment. He merely shook his head, saying; "All I want is a gud skrap, and yoo, ya grot, are giving me just dat." She wasn't as surprised though. The ork was having the time of his life, and was giving her a dumb grin as he came over, crashing down on the floor on the other side of their table. The fight club itself was kept within an abandoned tavern, rather far away from the center of Ratchet. The center of the tavern had been transformed into a large pit, where two combatants fought it out, and others bet on who won. They had been here since morning, and she had to say, she was loving every bit of it. She had a lot of pent up aggression, and the ork was releasing it for her. Many had challenged him to a fight, and he actually allowed Clea to tell him what to do with his 'opponents'. More like 'victims', but she was loving it. She was blushing on the inside as the ork broke legs and arms simply because she asked him to do it. He didn't care at all.

"Dis a gud place Clea, ta foight! Oooowee! Hah Hah!" He grinned wildly, as he took a small barrel of alcohol that had been given to him for free, partly to Zeex, as a symbol of good will. He popped the cork off, and he caught it deftly with his other hand, as he began to chug the barrel of alcohol down. Liquor poured down his chin and onto the area of his exposed chest, staining his scarred green chest brown. He adjusted his pirate hat as he kept drinking, before he wiped his mouth, dropping the barrel to the ground. She realised in alarm that he had finished the entire barrel in one go. How was his liver even working at this point? More importantly, how was he ALIVE? Wouldnt he have been suffering from alcohol poisoning. Bluddflagg let out a noisy belch, and spittle landed on the wooden table, but she didn't mind. She had gotten used to the orks uncleanliness, and she had to say, they were quite the people to be with. They were happy all of the time, no matter what happened.

"Isn't that not the best idea?" She asked cautiously, as she gestured to the now empty barrel. He wiped his chest with his blue sleeve, staining his greatcoat. He shrugged as a reply. Now that he had his armor off, she noticed that he was rather muscular. His greatcoat didn't do the best job of covering him, and it showed, as most of his torso and arms were nearly completely exposed. A swirling black tattoo was on his left arm, while another tattoo, of a red crudely painted skull with two axes crossed against it was on his other arm, right on the side of his shoulder. There were scars everywhere, and she couldn't find a unmarked spot if her second life depended on it. He in return gave a hoot of laughter, slamming his fists down on the table, nearly breaking it.

"Ha Ha! Itz gunna zoggin urt in da morning, but I dun give a grots arse!" He cackled, as he adjusted his hat again, making sure it stayed snugly on his massive head. She wondered why he cared so much about his hat. Was it a symbol of status? A trophy? She did not know, but he cared for it like a child. Zeex came over to him, and Bluddflagg had to look down at his feet to see the goblin.

"Excellent work Bluddflagg! You're like a million dollar cash cow!" he grinned wildly, as he patted his fine shirt, and Clea could hear the rustling of coins inside of it. Bluddflagg grinned in return, as with one finger, he scratched at his massive golden tusk, that seemed to replace his left lower fang.

"No worries. As long as he gets something to fight, he will be happy." Clea said, stepping into the conversation. She realised that it was perhaps time to leave. After all, Bluddflagg had fought, and precedingly crushed, nearly an eighth of the fight clubs attenders, and soon law enforcement would find out.

"Bluddflagg… Kaptain… perhaps it's time to leave. You need rest after all." She said, and he groaned.

"Ooo alroight alroight. But weze kummin back ere tommorow, gotz it?" He growled, and she nodded, feeling the hostility and disappointment coming out of him like ocean waves. This time, she smiled. She could handle another round. As a matter of fact, she was looking forward for it.

"I'm counting on it." She giggled, as she led the massive ork out of the fight club.

/

"No! No! Please! Don't!" Lorgus Jett screamed, as he tried to drag himself away from the… MONSTROSITY that was slowly making itself to him. He had heard rumors of the strange black creature, after it single handedly slaughtered an entire warband of satyrs and demons, but he dismissed them as tall tales. But when the last raiding party came with roughly a quarter of disciples and cultists left, and no wounded whatsoever, it certainly rang alarms. The raiding party had only gotten one prisoner, a night elf, but that didn't concern him. It concerned Lady Sarevess if anything. But what concerned him were the reports. The remnants of the raiding party reported a strange black being in robes, shooting green lightning from its staff, and cutting through flesh and armor like it was nothing. The most disturbing report came from a cultist known as Zasfu Ironarm. The orc reported that he had cut the being's head off with his two handed axe. Then, the being unleashed a field of green lightning, kill several cultists, while its headless body grabbed its decapitated head, and SCREWED it back on. He hoped that he would never see the creature. It was like a being of the old gods wrath itself. And now here it was, walking towards him.

A ring of corpses surrounded the creature, as it stepped over the bodies. It's black robes and black body were soaked in gore. As a matter of fact, it was covered head to toe in gore. He watched as fellow worshippers of the old gods had been ripped to pieces by this… thing. In desperation, he conjured a bolt of lightning, and shot it at the creature. The lightning bolt leapt from his finger tips, and seared a hit on the creature. It let out a howl of pain, as it sank to its knees. Then, its green, baleful eyes looked at him. He winced in pain, and tried to conjure up another bolt of lightning. He was interrupted, as his hand was cut off from his arm. He screamed in pain, as his right hand was severed so cleanly, that blood did not come out for the first two seconds, before ichor poured out of the stump.

"You and your followers are pathetic. I wonder how you have not been scoured off of this earth so easily…" It mumbled, as it's hand clenched the wound in his chest. Lorgus watched in horror as strange metal spiders came out of the charm on his collarbone. They scuttled toward the wound, and began to dig into the wound, making strange chittering noises, as they stitched and patched the wound together with horrifying precision. It was like liquid metal was being washed over the wound. The spiders retreated back into the charm. Black spots began to assault his eyes, forming a thin barrier around his line of sight.

"Where is Thelinda?" It asked, and he paused. Nothing was said for three seconds, before it let out a metallic sigh. It planted his metallic foot on his chest.

"The night elf you captured. WHERE. IS. SHE." It demanded, as it began to slowly crush Lorgus's ribcage. Lorgus let out an unholy scream of pain, as he felt his ribs crack underneath the steadily growing pressure.

"Fool! She will be sacrificed to Aku'mai's slavering maw! The old gods will reign supreme!" He yelled out. However, he would soon learn that would be a very foolish choice of words. And his last.

"You leave me no choice." It growled, as it lifted its foot. Lorgus took a greedy breath of air, only to gasp in pain. It felt like his whole chest was on fire. But that was only the beginning.

"So Mindshackle scarabs will make it for you." It commented dryly, before Lorgus's world became engulfed in searing, fiery, pain. He shivered and jerked, as he suffered from simply unimaginable pain. Then, blissful silence took him, as the blackness of the voice claimed him as its own, before he heard the screams of the twisting nether. He too screamed, as the laughs of ancient gods rang in his spectral ears.

/

Klaus sat there, idly drawing. He wasn't paying attention to what he was drawing anymore, just that he was. Meanwhile, his mind was in a completely different place. He was thinking of the future, and what to come. How would he cope with others? No one else worshipped the Imperial Creed, or even knew of it. He could teach it, but he expected that not many would accept its ideals. Well, one knew of the Imperial Creed, and one technically did worship it. Lofn. He tried to shake her out of his mind, but he couldn't. Lofn, the half eldar. Lofn, the farseer. Lofn. He didn't know what to think of her anymore. And this wasn't the first time he told himself that. She was simply unpredictable. She didn't treat herself as superior, she was friendly and kind, she seemed to care about him, and he couldn't list anyone who technically did. She was just everything he never expected to be in a living being. She was almost too happy, too blissful of the world, and universe at large, ignorant of their horrors. But he wasn't that stupid. She had seen her fair share of hardships, though not nearly as much as him, and maybe the orks. He didn't know what to think of her, no. But what did she think of him?

He paused, his eyes noticing that he was no longer drawing. What did she see in him? Why did she persist? She was persistent, he would give her that. She was brave, he would give her that. But why? Why was she so friendly to him, so kind? Was she simply doing it to be nice to him, to be on his good side? Was it just ass kissing? Or was it something more? He glanced back at Lofn, who was currently consulting her runes. Even though her back was turned to him, the coldness in the air, and the popping in his ears pointed fingers at her using her psyker powers. She reminded him of Karen, in a way. No! She looked nothing like Karen, he yelled at himself. But it was not of looks. It was of personality. Korpsmen did not show anything in the barracks and on the field, but it showed in their eyes. Karen was friendly, and kind, though she did not show it in front of her superiors. Only to him, and him alone. He was the only one who knew about this. It was like a secret. He glanced back at Lofn, and sighed. He looked back down at his notebook, and was surprised of what he drew. It was her. He had drawn a portrait of her. He cursed mentally. This wasn't the first time it happened, and he kept wondering why this was happening. Maybe it was her doing? He didn't know anymore, and this worried him. He wasn't scared. But he was worried.

Maybe she saw something in him, that he could not see himself. Perhaps he lacked the perception, the vision, the wisdom to know what was going on in the inside of himself. He would have to wait, and he would have to see.

Review Time

Chris Adair: Thanks man! Anyways, Cheese Knights would pretty much burn the entire world to a crisp, and that would fuck up ALOT of things. So no, the Ward Knights will not make an appearance. And with the thing that the emperor said would help Klaus... your not right, but your not wrong either...

rc48177: It is :404 ERROR NOT FOUND: gig, but this wouldnt be the first time chaos fought each other, and it will not be the last.

po20901: You wouldn't be the first one to ship those two...

RedRat8: Thank you very much ;)

OtaconGamer777: Whatever man, if you enjoy Nebetaruk's part of the story, then enjoy it! Im just happy that you like the story :)


	31. Chapter 31: Subjugation

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

So anyways, here is chapter 31. I had it finished earlier (thanks to Red Hot Chili Peppers) but I wanted to stay with the schedule.

Anways, hope you enjoy!

Thelinda was in pure shock, and watched in horror, as the massive beast came closer and closer. It was a hydra, nearly twenty feet tall. The Twilight's Hammer had called it Aku'mai. Its three heads never broke eye contact with her, as it crept forward. Three tongues licked their respective teeth, as the beast came closer. How could she had been captured! She should have died in battle, like a true sentinel! It was her weakness, that allowed this. And now, she would die like this! She didn't want to die like this! She tried to feebly crawl away, but it would do her no good. She was trapped in the chamber with the beast. There was nothing she could do. She was going to be eaten, consumed by this vile beast. And there was nothing she could do. She promised herself that she would not scream as it sank its teeth into her. She would not beg for mercy, as she would get none. She had failed Tyrande. She had failed herself. It was a shame that could only be alleviated with her painful demise.

She closed her eyes, and awaited the incoming pain. Then, she heard a strange noise, and a hiss of surprise from the beast. She opened her moon shaped eyes, and it took her several moments to register what was happening. Between her and the beast, a thin green fog had begun to form. It was a small cloud, tall yet thin, only two feet wide. Her mind scrambled to register any plausible thoughts or guesses, but they all came to the same conclusion. She only knew one being who ever used such green fog. The Lord of Metal. Lord Nebetaruk. Aku'mai glanced at the green fog, three pairs of eyes peering into it. Then, a figure started to appear. Her heart raced. It was him. Nebetaruk started to fade into existence, and she could see the strange symbol on the back of his cloak that he carried so proudly. She realised in horror that he was completely covered in blood. His black skin was red in gore, the only thing completely unchanged was his green eyes and his soft glow. He fully appeared and was also kneeling, and he seemed to quickly stretch himself, whirring noises coming from within him as he stretched his arms and legs. Aku'mai was completely surprised, and took several cautious steps back. Nebetaruk rolled off his cloak, and walked up to her, and put it right by her side. She sensed something powerful within his cloak, as he kneeled to her, carefully putting the cloak on her lap. He gave her one steady look in her eyes, and she could see the green energy swirling within. They were soulless, and showed no emotion. She only had a few moments, before his head turned to look at Aku'mai from his shoulder. Aku'mai let out a roiling scream of anger, as it came forward.

"Your quarrel is with me… beast…" Nebetaruk growled, as he rose to his full height, and smashed his staff into the ground. Green energy shot into the ground, making a barrier around the two combatants. Thelinda wanted to warn him of the beasts unimaginable power, but she could not speak. It was like a thick, ethereal hand had clutched her mouth, and she could not speak through it. She could only watch. Her hand touched the barrier cautiously, and she was surprised that her hand went through it completely. It was no barrier. It was an illusion. He was protecting her, by fooling the beast itself. Aku'mai let out a bellowing roar, charging Nebetaruk with its two stubby legs, its three mouths snapping at him. Faster then she thought possible, Nebetaruk rolled underneath the beast, slashing his staff. His impossibly sharp staff cut a deep furrow in the beast's hide, and it roared in anger, as it whipped Nebetaruk with its tail. Nebetaruk was sent flying into the cave wall, with a crack like thunder. The beast spared Nebetaruk one last glance, before slowly marching towards Thelinda. But she knew that he was far from done. A green burst of light made Aku'mai screech in anger, as Thelinda watched in astonishment, as one of the beasts head disappeared. But she was no fool. She watched as the beasts middle head, skin started to disappear in bursts of green light. Then the muscles, and then the skull. Its neck simply supported nothing, but it did not bleed, as the wound was so finely cauterised nothing came out. The remaining two heads screeched in anger, and charged Nebetaruk, who was still assembling himself. The heads grabbed his leg and arm, and began to pull him apart. He came apart in a flurry of sparks, his limbs and torso being torn asunder. Thelinda could only watch as Nebetaruk was torn to pieces in front of her. His head came rolling toward her, and she looked at his head. His two green eyes were looking straight at her. The corners of the slit that seemed to be his mouth barely twitched, forming what appeared to be a smile.

"It pleases me that you have not yet died." He said, though his voice was far off, as in a burst of green light, his head simply disappeared. He reappeared several meters infront of her, along with the rest of his body parts. The nano scarabs in the Phylactery began to put him back together. His coat of gore was washed off, as like liquid metal, his skin reformed before her eyes, where it was broken and dented. He rose to his full height, as Aku'mai let out a scream of rage, and charged him again. Nebetaruk leaped onto the beast, smashing his staff into its chest. Aku'mai screamed, as Nebetaruk carefully dragged the staff down. It made a deep cut into Aku'mais chest, but it didn't go far, only cutting into the monsters scales. It was REGENERATING, much like Nebetaruk. Its missing head was starting to regrow, and the wounds that Nebetaruk inflicted were healing. He noticed this, as he teleported right beside her. He looked at her, and she swore she could see he was scared.

"Thelinda. You may not like me for what I will do, and neither do I, but you MUST trust me, otherwise, none of us will get out of this place alive. I need you to run. Run, as far and fast as you can. I need you to exit Blackfathom Depths, and wait for me outside of the entrance. You will know where to go, as I have left you a trail of corpses. You MUST run, or I cannot guarantee your safety." He said, very seriously. She was completely shocked. She could hear fear in his voice, and he did not try to hide it. He then grabbed his cloak from her lap, and took out a strange crystal from one of its pockets. It was roughly the size of a small stick, but seemed to be made of crystal or glass. Its surface moved and swam like liquid metal, colors of silver, grey, and midnight black swirling around against its crystalline structure. She could hear inhuman voices whispering in her ear. He looked at her in fury, as he began to clench the shard.

"RUN THELINDA! RUN!" He roared, and she obeyed without a second thought. She picked herself up, grabbed the cloak, and she ran as fast as she could. She left the watery caverns and ran through the ancient doors, and kept running.

She could no longer see Nebetaruk, but she could hear him. And he was screaming. She then heard an inhuman roar of anger, one that chilled her to the very core. She had been a sentinel commander for ten years, and she had seen her fair share of horrors. But what was behind her easily took the cake. She didn't dare turn back, as she felt simply evil power swirl behind her. The air began to seemingly pop, and turned cold. A deep inhuman howl of pure rage made her want to lie down and cry, but she had orders. She began to see corpses of cultists and other beasts. They were slaughtered, butchered like cattle. There were no clean wounds. Every single body were missing limbs and heads. Some had their organs ripped out of their bodies. Others had their throats pried open. She realised with a start that Nebetaruk had single handedly wiped out the entire cultist population of Blackfathom Depths, for one reason. He had slaughtered and butchered them, leaving their corpses for the mollusks to feed on, for her. He saved her. But… why? She could not ponder the thought anymore, as she heard something she would never forget.

" **I… am… Free…"** Thelinda heard something whisper with malice and joy. She took a quick glance behind her, as she kept following the corpses. She saw nobody, but she heard Aku'mai scream in what she recognised as pure terror, as the evil Nebetaruk released let out a ring of inhuman laughter, before she could hear a blade digging into flesh, and then an unholy scream of anger and rage.

/

Lofn was consulting her runes again, when she heard something. It was very faint, something she could barely pick up, but her carefree mood dropped instantly. She paused, and listened VERY… VERY… carefully. She caught Klaus taking a quick peek at her when she wasn't looking, before he went back to drawing. She was pleased to see that he was drawing her. Again. But he didn't seem to notice anyways. That wasn't important though. Deciphering what was happening was. Then, she heard something whisper very faintly. The runes began to shake and convulse in her hand, as her mind deciphered the psychic message.

" **I… am… Free…"** She heard. This sent her spinning. Who was free? Did Klaus notice, or was it only her? She glanced back at Klaus, who was still sketching. She forgot that he wasn't a psyker, so she crossed out this possibility, as she glanced back at the runes. Something very evil had been released. It was not chaos though. No, she would know if chaos had been released. She thought about it for a moment. It was not chaotically evil, but it was something bad. She had several theories of what it could be, but she could not be certain. She sighed, putting her runes away. She needed comfort, more than ever. She had so much stress, so much pressure on her shoulders. The craftworld was counting on her. Her mother, her father, were counting on her. The ELDAR, were counting on her. So she did the first thing her mind suggested. She took a deep breath, as she pushed away her bag. She fixed her hair, and silently stood up, and took another deep breath. She heard a book being closed, and heard several footsteps, newly cleaned and polished boots making several footsteps towards her.

"Lofn, are you distressed?" She heard Klaus ask from behind her, and without thinking twice, she turned on him in an instant, her arms around his body. He grunted in surprise, as the sudden action caught him unaware. Lofn could feel the warmth of his body, even though he was wearing his thin undergarments. The beating of his heart. The gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He let out a disgruntled sigh, and lowered his arms, which had involuntarily shot up into the air.

"I assume this has a purpose?" He asked again, and she did not answer him. He groaned, and she looked up at him. His crystal blue eyes were locked with hers, and he had a disgruntled look on his face.

"Well?" He demanded, and she sighed.

"Everything has been so stressful lately… and I have no way to deal with it." She admitted. He narrowed his eyes.

"So you take your frustration out on me?" He asked patiently. She shook her head furiously.

"I wouldn't! I'm just jealous that you don't seem to mind at all about stress!" She retorted. He sighed, as he began to pry her off of him. But she wasn't done yet.

"Why did you ask?" She asked inquisitively. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, and he removed his hands from her arms.

"This interrogation is not focused on me, but regardless..." He said, trailing off. It was followed by a rather awkward silence, as his eyes trailed off somewhere else.

"Well?" She repeated playfully, and he looked back at her.

"I noticed several symptoms, that pointed to you being worried about something. You seemed to fade out of your carefree mood from time to time during todays activities. Your footsteps were more heavy and random then normal. You often looked back at your runes when something was troubling you, as if they will alleviate your ills. Several times now, I have noticed that you will fade out of conversations that normally, you would deem interesting. Something is troubling you, and you have not done much to hide it." He said casually, listing off her troubles like it was nothing. She rose an eyebrow skeptically.

"How did you know?" She asked.

"Two reasons. One, you have just told me." He said, sticking one finger up with his gloved hand. "Two, I always take great care in analyzing my enemies." He said, sticking another finger up, before looking back into her eyes. She ignored the implied comment, and kept going with her questions.

"But why would you ask if something was troubling me?" She asked, more forcefully. He furrowed his eyebrows and bit his lips, before looking away. She could see in his eyes that he was conflicted. He didn't talk for around thirty seconds, but she was stunned, as she came to the conclusion. He didn't have an answer. That was a far cry from his usual behavior. He always had an answer, for everything. He was logical about his answers and observations, and he certainly didn't hesitate to speak his mind. But this time, he simply couldn't say anything. He, had NO answer.

"You don't have an answer." She stated. He did not respond, and could not look her in the eye. She was right, and he knew it.

"But how do you do it?" She asked. He looked back at her, surprise etched into his face.

"Pardon?" He inquired. She groaned.

"Why don't you worry about anything?" She asked more forcefully. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"I do worry about things Lofn. I worry about them all of the time. I worry about my services to the emperor not being my main priority. I worry that no matter what I do, it would not be enough to please him. I worry all of the time. However, I do not let stress and worry take the reins away from logic, and common sense. I do not let stress take a foothold in my mind, for it has one use, and one use alone." He explained, detailing every word like it was a story. He paused for a few moments, before he continued.

"Stress and Worry are built into living beings because without stress and worry, nothing would drive us forward. If we could not worry about things, then why strive to accomplish things? If we could not stress out about things, then why associate ourselves with those things in the first place?" He explained. He took a look at her, and then sighed.

"Stress and Worry are the spawn of Fear, and Cowardice. Fear is natural in all living things. Fear is what keeps living beings, both intelligent and not, alive. Fear is what keeps us from doing very stupid things. Fear is something that protects us from things that we would deem dangerous. Fear is driven out of me and all Korpsman when we are children, for we have no need of it." He said, as he put a hand on his chest, snaking it between himself and her, which slightly got her excited. Involuntarily, of course.

"Fear and Cowardice are useful tools indeed, but they are not useful when your only purpose of life is to fight and die, to resolve the sins of our forefathers." He said, before he slid his hand straight onto her chest, slightly pushing her back.

"However, You feel Fear, and therefore, Stress and Worry because you need it much more than I do. This is how I deal with Fear, and Stress, and Worry. I stress out, and worry about things. But I do not fear them. I do not fear the unknown, because I have no use of the knowledge that would come from it. I don't fear what I worry about, because though it may concern me, it does not scare me." He told her. She smiled a tiny bit.

"You still didn't answer my question of why you asked." She noted. The tiniest motions tugged upwards at the edge of his lips, as he removed her hands from his body.

"Oh go fuck yourself." He said humorlessly, as he walked over to his side of the bed, and sat down. He clicked his pen, and continued to doodle in his sketchbook. She spared him a parting glance, before she looked out of the window of their room, feeling slightly calmer. Maybe that was all she needed. Someone to talk too.

/

Clea huffed, as she tried to drag the massive ork away. Of course had to fall ASLEEP as they were walking back to Ratchet. She kicked him in the neck, but all this accomplished was him grunting slightly, as he took thick, raggedy, deep breaths. She looked back at the trail the two had made. It had been nearly three hours of constantly dragging him, and she had accomplished dragging him maybe one hundred feet away from where he had fallen asleep. She sat on his massive chest, as she simply refused to keep dragging his ass in the sand. She looked at the massive beast in front of her, as he grumbled in his sleep. She leaned in, and listened closely. His voice was incredibly quiet, a far cry from his normally booming and bellowing voice.

"Un squig… Two squig… Free squig… er… wot… wot kums afta forr…" He mumbled, as he shifted slightly underneath her. She chuckled lightly, as she leaned back. She realised with a start she still owed a report to the Dark Lady. She looked back at the ork, who was still sleeping underneath her. She got off, and walked away, keeping herself distant from the ork, but still in plain sight. She didn't want him to get robbed. She took out the glossy orb from her cloak, and shook it lightly. Swirls of sickly and dark green swirled around it, before two red eyes peered at her from the visage.

"You're late." The Dark Lady commented dryly, and Clea nodded her head lightly.

"An error on my part, Dark Lady. I shall not repeat this mistake." Clea stated.

"Enough. Report." Sylvanas said, and Clea began.

"We have reached Ratchet, and found the human. He is accompanied by a half elf, though she looks vastly different from what we are used too. I have not yet talked to the human and half elf, as they seem to distrust me. I asked the orks about them, and they were more then happy to oblige." She grinned, showing her white teeth. Sylvanas nodded once, and making her a gesture to continue.

"The human is known, as the orks called him, a 'Deff Korp'. Said Deff Korp wears a strange skull face mask, and helmet, along with a coat and armor. He carries peculiar, and interesting weaponry. He wields a sword that seems to have dozens of small teeth down the blade. He also carries a strange rifle. As the orks said it, it was a 'flashlight.' However, Mista Nailbrain provided a more lengthy explanation. He said that these 'flashlights' shoot concentrated beams of light." She explained. Sylvanas raised both of her eyebrows, one that Clea quickly copied. Sylvanas rarely let such surprise get the best of her. She quickly recovered though.

"And what of the half elf?" Sylvanas asked. Clea pursed her lips.

"She has not talked much, though she seems to the most friendly of the group. She wears armor and robes that I have never seen. She seems to be a sorceress, or wizard of some kind. I have yet to see her use her magic, of course." Clea reported. Sylvanas was silent for several moments.

"Do they have any objective in mind?" She asked, and Clea nodded.

"For some reason, they are heading to Darnassus. The human said that they were going to 'burn that foul relic of chaos'" She reported. Sylvanas thought about this for several moments, before she nodded.

"Very well. Report to me soon. But make sure they try to get their as fast as possible. Warchief Thrall is onto us, and if he discovers our plan, then our quest will fail." She ordered, and Clea nodded, as the orb began to fade in color. She stowed it away, as she walked back to the sleeping ork. Besides, they were leaving tomorrow anyways. She wrapped her arms around his foot, and began to drag the massive ork once again. He at least provided her with good exercise.

/

Nebetaruk hoisted himself up onto the floor of the shrine, digging the pommel of his staff into the ancient rock. He shook himself clean of water, as he tried to regain his composure. He failed, and collapsed onto his knees. On the outside, he was emotionless. As always. But on the inside, he was mentally exhausted. Using a C'tan shard had many risks of its own. Releasing a C'tans power was one thing. Controlling it, was a whole different experience, one that he dearly hoped never to experience. He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy. The simple amount of willpower and mental control it took to control the Nightbringer was simply absurd, and it completely drained him mentally. All he wanted was to crawl up and die, but the world would rot around him before that happened, so it was out of the question. He raised himself up slowly, and his soulless eyes peered into the darkness. It was night, for one thing. Had he really been down there for so long? After killing so many of those cultists and beasts, he had really lost track of time. He checked his internal chronometron. He had been in there for roughly six hours, forty two minutes, twenty four seconds, and three hundred sixty seven milliseconds. So yeah, it had been some time. Not that he minded, of was not such an important aspect of his life now. It was just there.

 _That was pretty fun, you gotta admit._ The shard commented humoredly, which he still had in his hand. He got rid of his thoughts, as he directed his anger at the shard.

 _Controlling you, was not fun._ Nebetaruk growled at it, as he took several steps forward, scanning the ruins. Where was she?

 _Come on! I loved killing that thing! We should do that again._ It giggled. Nebetaruk sighed. He would give up his immortality just to be rid of this thing. But, he could not. The Nightbringer was simply too powerful to be left alone, and unguarded. Until he could find a very good place to lock it up, he was chained to it. Strangely, the C'tan was content of not chaining Nebetaruk to its iron will, which was something he expected. He decided to not bring it up to the C'tan. He silenced the shard, as he continued to walk. Then, he saw her. She was lying against a tree, and was sleeping. He walked over to her as quietly as he could, quite an achievement in his opinion, as his joints wheezed and clanked, as they tried to get rid of the water still trapped within. He considered his options. He could either sit here, and wait until she woke up, which would be roughly at dawn. Or, he could take her to a town. She seemed to be covering something on her chest. He gently peeled off her hand, and saw an ugly wound looking back at him. She had been wounded. He quickly buttoned on his robes. The choice was then made, as he scooped her up, and placed her on his metallic pauldron. He checked his databases for the nearest town. After doing some scanning and estimations, he decided on where to go. Maestra's Post. With this new objective in mind, he began to walk forward.

 _Nightbringer, I will ask you a question, and you will be honest._ He said suddenly.

 _Yeah, what is it?_ It replied, as he stuffed the shard back into his tattered and ruined robes.

 _Have you been granting me freedom?_ He asked it. The nightbringer did not respond for several moments.

 _I've been influencing you._ It said cryptically. He would have raised an eyebrow. If he had one.

 _But why?_ Nebetaruk asked.

 _No comment._ It replied curtly. Nebetaruk shrugged mentally, as he continued to head to the main road. It was rather awkward to walk with a wounded mortal on one shoulder, but he managed.

 _Now I'm going to ask you a question._ The nightbringer said.

 _Go ahead._ Nebetaruk replied.

 _Why did you save her? You know she's supposed to be spying on you, right?_ It asked him. He did not answer the Nightbringer for five seconds, before he replied.

 _I am not too sure myself. A lack of Judgement, perhaps._ He said truthfully. The Nightbringer shrugged ethereally. Nebetaruk was silent as he continued to march in the moonlight, where he began to delve ever deeper in his thoughts.

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	32. Chapter 32: Chaos Stirs

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH here!

So here is another chapter.

Im not sure what my plans will be for the school year, as it will begin soon, but I will address the issue when it comes

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Klaus stood patiently at the loading docks, as they waited for the others to trickle in. Of course, he wasn't excited that he would be stuck in a flying boat for around four hours with an abhuman, three orks, and two other xenos. This whole operation was starting to sound like the butt of a really shitty joke, no doubt made by a drunk Vostroyan who had too much Amasec. He stood in his full wargear, lasgun propped against his shoulder, his chainsword latched firmly in his sheathe. Lofn also stood in her wargear, but as usual, she had her helmet off. They waited patiently, neither wanting to bring up what happened yesterday. Perhaps the worst part of their conversation was that he truly, did have no answer for why he even bothered to ask her if she was well. He didn't even register that he had asked the question until she brought it up. He hated that he had no answer, but he truthfully, did not. For thirty minutes they patiently waited. On the horizon, they began to see a deep navy blue against a vibrant green. Judging by the weight of bombs, mines, and explosives the ork carried with him, he could guess it was Spookums. He traveled alone.

"Where is the other? The female?" Lofn asked, as Spookums came over.

"Zentar said dat she as sum familee fings ta do, so she left." He explained. Klaus raised an eyebrow.

"Orks have family?" He asked in confusion. Spookums shared his confusion.

"I dun zoggin kno oiva. Dis place is weerd." He replied. The two stared at each other for a moment, two red eyes looking at two tinted lenses, before they awkwardly looked away, standing at attention. Luckily, Spookums kept quiet, and was also patient. That could not be said about Mista Nailbrain, the Mek, who was the next to come over. He carried a backpack, that seemed to be stitched crudely together with other bags and the sort. He looked like a Spore Mine, if Klaus would be honest.

"Ooo dis gunna be so zoggin excoitin! So many fings ta build, so many fings ta see!" He grinned wildly, as he jumped up and down like a giddy gretchin. Spookums was quick to calm down his friend, by beating him. Lofn winced at the unnecessary cruelty, but Klaus expected nothing less. The orks were the definition of savagery, and often relied on beating the other in order to show their power and dominance. Barbarous and savage it was, it was also effective. However, Mista Nailbrain would not be pacified so easily, as he began to fight back. It appeared that Mista Nailbrain had quite the left hook, as one of Spookums teeth flew at him, and smacked into his chest. It pinged off of the integrated carapace armor, leaving a tiny dent.

"Oi! Oomie! Help me do sum paci… er… um… ya know wot? Just give em a gud kick." Spookums yelled, as he grabbed ahold of Mista Nailbrains arms, and presented the squirming ork to Klaus. He did not had to be told twice, as he ran over, did a proper kick with his steel toed boot right between the orks legs. The ork let out a high pitched squeal of pain, as he collapsed, his hands shooting to protect his groin from further damage. Spookums gave Klaus a nod of approval, as he rolled Mista Nailbrains body out of the way with his foot, getting curious glances from other civilians. Lofn however, shot him a disapproving look.

"Was that really necessary?" She growled, as he came over.

"No, but it felt good." He admitted. She sighed, rubbing her face, as Mista Nailbrain let out another moan of pain, rolling around unceremoniously in the dirt. Spookums shot him a wild grin, one that he did not catch entirely, as they saw the massive kaptain in the distance, making his way. Well, things could have gone worse. They could have added more xenos or mutants into the mix. Bluddflagg seemed… off. His steps were miscalculated and random. Well, as random as an ork could get. He was happy that he could not smell his breath, as when Lofn took a whiff, she had to prevent herself from puking, which provided Klaus a small hint of amusement.

"Ooo Kapn… Yooze benn drinking avent ya?" Spookums pointed out. Bluddflagg let out a string of vowels that could not even been considered speech, but Spookums seemed to understand it good enough.

"Oi! Dats a low blow!" Spookums snapped. Even Mista Nailbrain, who was still moaning in pain, let in his own opinion.

"Kapn! Datz krossin a loine!" Mista Nailbrain snapped. Bluddflagg merely howled a string of guttural sounds. The three orks began to squabble amongst each other, steadily devolving from coherent gothic into growls and snarls. The others stood there for ten minutes, patiently waiting for the orks to settle down. Klaus knew that it would only end until one of them was dead, or shot, but he could wait.

"Are they always like this?" The grey xeno asked, as she came up to them. Klaus examined the xeno closely. She appeared human, but normal humans did not have such pale skin. Nor did they have glowing red eyes. He could faintly see her ears, which were slightly pointed. An elf, maybe. How many versions of them were there? How did they even make so many? He shook his head clear of those thoughts. The xeno is diabolical, and have plenty of ways of fuelling their armies. Lofn was happy to answer. He would leave the conversations to her. He could at least tolerate Lofn, as she was part human. That was the only reason he was partially friendly. Friendly, as in he wasn't killing her. Right?

"Unfortunately, it is." She replied. The three of them watched as the squabbling orks were simply roaring at each other now. Entertaining it was, Klaus knew that this would end badly, unless they intervened.

"I never caught your name." He heard Lofn say. He shook his head mentally, Her curiosity would be the death of her one day.

"I am Clea Deathstrider. What is yours?" The now named xeno said. Klaus had to admit, he was a bit curious. He didn't know why, but he was

"Farseer Lofn." She said happily, and he could hear hands being shaken. He also felt two pairs of eyes on the back of his skull.

"And his?" Clea whispered. He could hear Lofn sigh, and could also hear her rubbing her face.

"He's Klaus, and also a xenophobe. If you're not human, he isn't talking to you." She mumbled. Klaus decided that it was time to interrupt their gossip. If they wanted to talk about him, they should do it when, you know, he wasn't there.

"Lofn, perhaps we should break up the fight. They are going to kill each other before it's over." He suggested, gesturing to the greenskins. He observed that Mista Nailbrain was winding up a haymaker, prepared to whack Spookums right in the jaw. She stepped forward, the waystones in her robes flaring red in power, as they drawed as much warp energy as she could.

"Enough!" She said, as she swiped her hand. A maelstrom of raw energy slammed into the orks, flinging Spookums and Mista Nailbrain several meters away, while Bluddflagg was simply pushed several steps back. The grey xeno recoiled, and so did he. You could never be sure around psykers. The waystones faded in color, and she fell to her knees. Klaus came over, offering his hand. She smiled, as she took it, and he hauled her up. He then paused. Why did he do that?

"Ooh alright alright…" Spookums growled, as the ork rose himself up. He then turned around, and offered Mista Nailbrain his hand. He took it, and the two orks began to walk forward. Bluddflagg muttered several strings of curses as he got his bearings. The three orks rallied up once more. Lofn flashed him a smile he promptly ignored, as the group headed to the docks.

/

Thelinda opened her eyes. Good, that meant she wasn't dead. It took her a few moments to realise that she was moving. It also took her a few moments to realise that her legs were indeed, not moving. She tried to move, but groaned in pain, as it flared up in her midsection. She heard the steady clicking of a staff against the ground, the sound of muffled footsteps. She raised her head up a bit, and looked to her left. Lord Nebetaruk's eyes were locked to hers. She found it slightly disturbing that wherever she moved her head, his eyes followed, locked onto her white eyes.

"I would suggest you do not move. You may risk injuring yourself further, and my skill in the medical field is not much." He advised, as he looked back at the road. She obliged. She would rather not move. She noticed his cold hand was wrapped around her body, keeping her on his rounded pauldron. He had saved her life. It was a debt she could never hope to repay.

"You saved me… but why?" She asked, wincing in pain slightly as he slightly moved his shoulder. He cast his green eyes on her again. It was soft in color, thought it was still a malignant green. His eyes seemed to change brightness at random. Sometimes it was barely visible. Other times, it was like staring at the sun.

"Truthfully, I have no idea why. It was a lapse of judgement, perhaps. I tell myself that I had made an oath to protect the denizens of this realm, but I cannot remember saying this, as my memory stores are damaged. So in reality, I have no feasible explanation of my actions." He replied calmly, as he looked away.

"But what did you do, or use to kill Aku'mai?" She asked. He shuddered slightly, and she winched at the sudden jerk. He noticed this, and apologized.

"An evil that you cannot fathom. A god so engrossed in killing, that it drives others insane merely looking at it. Until I can find a place to hide it, and lock it up for all eternity, I am chained to it." He said cryptically. This only raised more questions.

"Why are you chained to it?" She inquired. He gave her a part glance, before looking back at his cloak.

"Because I trust no one in going near it. If the shard is broken, the being within will be released, and all life on this planet will be extinguished, cut to pieces by its malignant scythe. Only one with extreme mental fortitude can even consider controlling a C'tan, and even then, it will often drive them insane afterwards." He replied.

"C'tan?" She asked, confused. He shot her a glance, before sighing.

"It is our native tongue for Star God. I would not expect you to know anyways." He said. Thelinda licked her lips. This was certainly an interesting conversation. She would squeeze out as much information out of him. For Tyrande, of course. Not her own interests.

"So you're telling me you have captured a god, and until you can find somewhere to hide it, you keep it like is a prisoner?" She asked.

"It is a crude explanation of the situation at hand, but it serves, though it lacks several important details." Nebetaruk commented.

"And what would that be?" She retorted. Nebetaruk slowed down, looking at her.

"You may have your uses, Thelinda. However, there are boundaries that you must learn. You would not want to incur my wrath." He said threateningly, as he picked up his pace. Thelinda kept this in mind. They were silent, as he continued to walk, as she was dangling over his shoulder.

"So… where are we going?" She asked, deciding to progress the conversation in a different route.

"We are heading to Maestra Post, where we will find you medical treatment." Nebetaruk replied without a second thought.

"Maestra Post? We won't find much there. If anything, we should head to Astranaar." She said. He made several whirring noises from within. She wondered what was making those noises.

"A sound plan. However, do note this will take longer, and you may risk harming yourself more then it is necessary." He said, as he began to change direction.

"I don't mind. If anything, we could simply buy a health potion." She said. He gave her a curious glance.

"Health Potion?" he said, confused. She sighed, before she explained it. She didn't go too far in depth, but he seemed rather surprised by this. She was slowly becoming more adept in reading his barely noticeable emotions. His eyes would sometimes brighten in color if he was surprised or angry.

"Interesting…" He mumbled, as he continued to walk.

"Lord Nebetaruk, perhaps you could allow me to walk by myself?" She asked. He gently lowered her onto the ground, in which she took several steps. She winced in pain at the sudden movement. It was at this moment she realised the bandage that covered the wound. It was a fine black cloth, with an edging of green to it. It felt soft, but she didn't dare touch it. He noticed her looking at it.

"Pardon my skills. My skills in medical assistance have faded, ever since our biological transfer." He said, as he continued walking. She had an idea. It was daring, but it could work.

"Perhaps we could have an exchange of information?" She asked, as she started to catch up. She idly wondered how long he had been walking. Did he tire? Did he even sleep?

"Very well. However, this shall not be one sided. I currently lack vital information of this realm. Therefore, you shall ask a question, and then I shall ask you a question. Fair?" He said, giving her a part glance with one green eye. She didn't really have nothing to loose, so she nodded.

"Good. Ask away." He said, as he continued walk, his staff making a rhythmic click that was nearly euphoric.

"First off. What are you?" She said, getting to the chase. He stopped, staring ahead into the wilderness.

"I am a Necron." He said simply. She sighed.

"In detail?" She added on. To this, he took a finger, and shook it.

"That was not the deal. Now, I shall ask you a question. While I was in Blackfathom Deeps, I noticed that their were other versions of elfs. The night elves have a purple hinge, while others I saw were pale, with green eyes. Explain how these variations among the population formed, and the cultural and physical differences." He stated. She pursed her lips. He was certainly asking a lot. But yet again, so was she.

"We are Kaldorei, and the ones you described are sin'dorei. We were once the same. The kaldorei were the peasants, and the sin'dorei were the nobles. But their was a rebellion, and our ancestors pushed the nobles out of our lands. Ten thousand years later, they have changed drastically." She explained shortly. She took a quick breath, before she continued.

"The sin'dorei have developed green eyes due to exposure to fel magic. They are reliant on magic to sate their thirsts, lest they become corrupted by it." She said, though she herself wasn't too sure on that part. She had not seen many sin'dorei in her career. He nodded.

"This proves satisfactory. It is your turn now." He said, making a gesture with his hand that she did not fully understand.

"How old are you?" She asked. He paused, and his eyes seemed to fade. He made several clicking noises, before his eyes brightened in color, and turned to her.

"According to my Internal Chromatron, it has been 219,000,000,078 days since my bio transfer. In simpler terms, I am sixty million years and 78 days old. Thelinda's jaw dropped. Sixty million years? He had to be lying! There was no feasible explanation that he was that old! He must have been older than the Titans themselves! He noticed this. She wasn't really trying to keep her expressions hidden.

"It seems that something I have said has surprised you. Are you well?" He noted. She took several deep breaths, before she addressed him.

"You can't be sixty million years old! It is impossible!" She yelled. He shook his head.

"But I am. You would do well not to think me a liar. My words are as true as yours. I am indeed, sixty million years old. Age, Disease, Hunger. They no longer affect us Necrons. We, are immortal." He said calmly.

"But what of death?" She asked suddenly. He gave what appeared to be a chuckle, a howling noise of metal grinding against each other.

"Ah. Death. One of our oldest fears. One that turned us into the monstrosities we are today. I still fear Death, as with no soul, I fear that I have nowhere to go. It takes a lot to kill me. However, you are welcome to try. Maybe you are more fortunate of where you will end up." He said, with something alike with humor, as he began to walk again. Thelinda could sense that the conversation was over, but she still had more questions. She would run out of things to tell the Necron before he did.

/

Ahriman swung his staff, embedding it in the flickering shape of the eldar harlequin. It laughed, as he twisted the pronged horns of the staff, ripping its organs, out, before silencing its haunting laughs with his inferno pistol. The enchanted bolt round struck it in the head, ending its pitiful existence. He traded blows with another Harlequin, before he lit the harlequin alight with warpfire. Blood red fire wrapped around his armored gauntlet, as he strangled the harlequin to death with his fiery red hand. Typhus stood close by, finishing off the last of the trope. Ahzek Ahriman could never believe it. Finally, after years of fruitless searching, he had finally entered the Black Library. He did not know what had happened to the Death Guard and Prodigal Sons he left to guard the Webway gate from the eldar and loyalists, but he finally did it! He would have scoured the entire library of knowledge, and take it all for himself. Perhaps he could rebuild prospero. Perhaps, he could lead the Thousand Sons to glory. Perhaps he could be righted for his greatest failure. But that would have to wait. He had some gods to save, and some knowledge to plunder.

He opened up a tome of forbidden knowledge that he had chained to his power armor, and began to read it. Vile words that should never come out of a mortals mouth slipped down his tongue, as a screaming portal to the warp opened up. Daemons crawled out. Bloodletters of Khorne, in their fiery red skin, holding their flaming swords with their brass hilts and pommels. Horrors of Tzeentch, ever changing piles of flesh with legs, that let out streams of unholy words and syllables. Daemonettes of Slaanesh, whispering promises of unimaginable pleasure in his ears. Plaguebearers of Nurgle, twitching madly, filling the room with a stench that would kill lesser men. The portal closed. With the newly formed daemon formation, Ahriman led them ever forward into the twisting chambers of the black library. Of course, more and more daemons were slayed by the dancing and elegant forms of the harlequins, until yet again, it was Ahriman and Typhus, but they proved worthy distractions. They had entered the main bulk of the Library, where the most interesting and powerful artifacts and relics of forbidden knowledge were located. It was here, he could find a way to enter the alternate realm. It was here, that he could finally redeem himself in the eyes of Magnus the Red Cyclops.

"Ahriman… You will explain… our purposes…" Typhus wheezed, as he shook his man reaper clean of sparkling eldar blood, as the two stepped into a large, expansive room. Ahriman scanned the room, finding that not much was in this room. He walked up to the shelves of the room, and began to look through each book and item he could find. He shook his head, gently putting them back where they belonged.

"We lack the proper incantations to enter the forbidden realm. However, I think I know where to go…" He replied, as he waved Typhus forward. The two champions of chaos jogged together, as they once again dived into the twisting labyrinth that was the Black Library. Both with different goals in their twisted, sadistic minds.

/

Deep within Darnassus, the capital of the kaldorei, an ancient evil stirred. In a Night Elf house, a log cabin, is a small shelf. Within this small shelf, are several books. Most of the books are traditional books. Collections of poems, and other works of literature. But what lies inside of the third book in the shelf, far outweighs what lies in the others. Within its yellow aged pages, it's fine red leather cover and skin, its aged and wrinkled spine, something far more malignant lies within. It has no physical eyes to open up with, but its long dormant spirit flutters into consciousness. It writhes and screams psychically in uncomfortability. The being does not like its current form. It longs to touch the earth, to feel the wind against its back. It longs to have a physical body. It looks around with its ethereal eyes. Where was it? It scanned the room, slavering hungrily. It could smell Innocence. In more ways than one. It appeared that it was still trapped in this damnable tomb! If it ever found the damn sorcerer who locked it up, It would enjoy ripping his soul to pieces, and then keeping what was left. It would be a delicacy! For now, it forgot about its revenge, and considered its options of how to get out. It needed a mortal body. One that deserved its unholy touch and corruption. Then, it could open a portal for its friends to come through. Its friends wanted to be in the physical realm too. They didn't want to kept inside of the Immaterium any longer. They didn't like what those clowns provided, the Burning Legion either. They were weak phonies, and it would gladly kill them. Of course, it was not aligned either. It suddenly heard humming. It kept quiet, as a strange purple creature walked into the room, sitting down on a bed. This was its chance. The creature walked up to the shelf, its hand brushing against the other books.

" _Read me…"_ It whispered. The creature recoiled instinctively, looking around.

" _Read me, and learn of knowledge no one else could know…_ " It whispered, with honeyed and sweet words. The creatures fingers touched his tombs spine, fluttering against it. It cautiously took it, and sat down, and began to read. The daemon took a deep sigh, and 'leaned back'. The hard work had been done. It wouldn't take long before chaos would reign once again.

Review Time:

Zeru'Xil: Depends on your interpretation of it ;)

King Rocket: It could be arranged, but do note that Kil'jaedan has a physical form, and the Nightbringer does need a mortal host to make an avatar. Or you know, the shard gets broken, but then everything is fucked.

rc48177: PROGRESS!

AlienLizard: Im just trying to balance everything out :)


	33. Chapter 33: Memories of Old II

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH here!

So here is another chapter.

So I kind of like doing these kind of chapters. Provides some creative leeway for myself.

So I may do more chapters like these in the future!

Anyways, enjoy!

Klaus took several steps off of the rickety thing they called a zeppelin. The goblin pilot gave him a wave he did not return, as the ragtag crew began to prepare for liftoff. They could not land in the city for several reasons, all of them making perfect sense. After all, the greenskins and the kaldorei had some quarrels, and he had to admit, he understood perfectly. Greenskins after all, were savage beasts that deserved to be cleansed, scoured from the face of reality. However, the humans here lacked the zealous faith he hoped to find in others. They were too happy to be with xenos and the like. If he was given time, he could snap them into proper Imperial Citizens. However, he would not be given the chance too, as the rest of their ragtag group of xenos and abhuman came out. They were certainly an interesting bunch. When he was inducted into the Korps, he certainly never knew he would work with a xeno. Alliances with xenos were not unheard of though. It was less of an alliance, and more of a VERY temporary non aggression pact, but it was still something. He scanned the group with analytic purpose. The one that still eluded him was Clea. Just what was she? She seemed to have a strange, malignant aura around her at all times. Something was plain wrong with her. She did not appear to have any taint of the ruinous powers, and that was something. But regardless, she was a xeno. And xenos could never be trusted. The three orks were looking around, as they landed in a very grassy and woody clearing. He was at least happy that he wasn't in that awful desert anymore. It was rather nice and cool, though it was still warm. It was here that he remembered something. His vision of the emperor. He had said something was in a town called Astranaar. A tomb, that held something that waited patiently for a fellow Imperial Citizen. However, he knew that he could go nowhere without Lofn breathing down his neck, and he would never let the orks defile such a thing holy to the emperor.

He took a deep breath, and began to walk over to Lofn, who was currently getting her bearings. He tapped her on her shoulder. She turned around, and had a surprised look on her face.

"I must speak to you. In… private." He said. She seemed to be excited, and nodded, as she addressed the orks that they would be right back. Klaus ignored the comment from one of the orks, saying that 'I'll bet ya five teef dey gonna zog each uvva.' and 'Yer on, ya git.' as they walked into the underbrush. Klaus took another deep breath, steeling his resolve.

"What do you want to talk about?" She asked slyly, as she turned to face him. He crossed his arms.

"I had a vision." He said simply. She raised an eyebrow.

"Meaning?" She said, smiling lightly. He cracked his jaw with one hand.

"I had a vision of The Emperor, blessed is he. He told me what was needed of me. He told me that an ancient tomb near a town named Astranaar. That something awaits me there. I must go to it, as his word his absolute. However, I will not have the orks or the xenos come along. They would defile this resting place." He said firmly. She bit her lip softly, as she looked at him in the eyes.

"Alright." She smiled. Klaus raised his eyebrows in surprise. He certainly didn't expect her to cave in this easily.

"Is this some sort of trick? I know you as many things, but caving in this easy is something I have not yet seen in you." He said, not hiding his surprise. To this, she shrugged.

"I walk the path of the seer. I know how potent, and how useful a vision from the future can be. We must pick the correct string of fate if we are too find this… tomb… of yours." She said, as they walked out of the bush. Bluddflagg, seeing them come out in clothes, gave Mista Nailbrain a good whomp in the face, and picked up his bloody prize.

/

Thelinda downed the potion in one go. She didn't look as the wound began to heal in front of Nebetaruk, who watched it very closely. If anyone else did it, she would slap them. However, Lord Nebetaruk was no average person. No average person had bent a god to his will, slayed a beast of the old gods by himself, and also precedingly slay an entire demon warband by yet again, himself. He was a fascinating subject. She wondered idly what would happen if the Explorers League got a hand on him. After all, someone who was sixty million years old, probably had some good information to spill. She didn't doubt him. He was truthful and honest, something she could not say about other people she knew. But she also knew that he was sinister. Maybe not evil, but certainly not good. But why was he like this? It was clear he had no regard for life. Though Thelinda knew that if the kaldorei was to survive, Blood would have to be spilt. Heads would have to roll. She didn't like to kill others, but she knew it was something she would have to accept ever since she became a sentinel at the young age of twelve. But Lord Nebetaruk simply didn't care of life. He did not think for the lives that he took, only thinking of more ways to kill them. He killed with the utmost ruthlessness, but with a strange sense of finesse. His every blow, every block, every sweep, was thought out, and devastating. She was lulled out of her thoughts, as he stood up, examining the now empty elixir with unhidden interest. He examined it over and over again, looking at it from every possible angle. She smirked. He was like a child who had just seen an airship.

"Thelinda. Explain this." He whispered, and she was about to open her mouth, when she noticed what he was gesturing too. He wasn't gesturing to the potion, like expected, but the formation of a small crowd of assembled kaldorei and draenei, who were watching with complete fascination.

"They are amazed, and fascinated." She whispered to him back, smirking. He glanced back at the crowd, before back at her.

"I am not. I go to meditate. Do not follow." He grumbled, as he clinked his staff, and disappeared in a green mist. She rubbed her face, and sighed. For now, he was gone. All she wanted to do was to sit down, and relax. She would be given no such things, as several sentinels came over. One of them she recognised as Thenysil.

"What was that?" She asked in curiosity, as the sentinels formed a ring around her. Thelinda sighed. She wasn't getting out of this easily.

"I am not too sure myself. His name is Lord Nebetaruk though." She said, saying his irregular name without difficulty.

"You know his name? I thought it was The Lord of Metal..." Another sentinel said. Thenysil pursed her lips.

"Lord of Metal… I assume he is a noble, but of what kingdom?" She pondered aloud. Thelinda shrugged.

"He does not like to share too much information." She admitted.

"Understandable." Another sentinel quipped in.

"Regardless, what of his loyalties?" Thenysil asked. Thelinda took a deep breath, as she could see a soft green glow further down the dark streets.

"I am not too sure myself." She muttered. She was really in the dark about him. And he wasn't too keen on sharing information, that much was clear.

"Regardless, let's get you something to eat. You look tired." Thenysil said, shooing the sentinels into the closest Tavern. Thelinda looked at the green glow far away, and huffed.

/

Bluddflagg leaned back on the chair that he had fashioned from the ruined tree, taking a good swig of fungus beer. He gulped it down noisily, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. The roaring campfire provided warm comfort, and he pulled down his hat gently, so the glare was not in his one remaining eye. His krew sat around the campfire, all doing their own things. The humie, Klaus, if he heard correctly, was spit polishing his boots, sparing him glances of hatred. Bluddflagg merely snorted at this. Let the humie hate him. Only helped him in the end. The eldar, Lofn was simply sitting down on a cloth blanket, looking at those weird red pebbles. She was a weird un if he ever saw one, and he had a good policy of weird uns. Stay the hell away from them. Mista Nailbrain was currently, doing some sketches in a oily notebook, doodling away at new contraptions. Spookums was taking a leak behind a tree, and Clea was doing the same thing as Bluddflagg, looking over the group. Their eyes met, and were locked for several moments, before she broke eye contact. She reached into her small bag, and pulled out what appeared to be a small deck of cards.

"Dis is borin." He announced, getting three and half of pairs of eyes going in his direction. He dragged himself forward, and clapped his hands onto his knees firmly.

"How bout a story?" He asked, squinting at the group. None answered for three seconds.

"Frakk yourself." Klaus said, breaking the silence, as he continued to polish his boots. The weird un gave him a firm shove, one that he ignored.

"Saltee, oi see." Bluddflagg noted, grinning at the human's reaction, which was a good old middle finger.

"Anybudy else, or am I gunna ave ta do da wurk meself?" He asked, not that he minded of course. He loved to tell stories and to hear them, as it was a good source of entertainment, reliving past moments of bloodshed.

"Ooo Kaptain! Kaptain! Oi got un! Wot bout da toime, dat toime we wuz raidin da bloo gits, and den, dose metal boys came out of da ground!" Mista Nailbrain grinned. Bluddflagg scratched his chin.

"Dose Metal Boys? Wut dey called gain? Newcrowns? Neecrans? Noobkrons?" He pondered aloud. It had been awhile since he saw a metal boy. The humie was quick to respond.

"Necron, greenskin." Klaus corrected him, nearly yelling. Bluddflagg grinned. He would put the humie to good use.

"Ya know wot? Why dun yoo tell us a storee?" Bluddflagg challenged, pointing at the human. Klaus put away his rag, looking at the massive ork. Bluddflagg would give credit where it was due. Most humans would shit their pants at being challenged by a warboss. Not him.

"Why should I?" He demanded. Bluddflagg

"Wots it to ya?" Bluddflagg countered. The two stared at each other hard, neither of them backing down. Both of them were too stubborn. This lasted around ten seconds, until out of all people, Lofn broke it.

"Why don't you?" Lofn asked him. Klaus gave her a hard look for several seconds, before sighing. It seemed that he did have a weakness, of some sorts. Bluddflagg kept this in mind.

"Alright fine, greenskin. You win. This time. What are the requirements?" He groaned, rubbing his face. Bluddflagg grinned.

"Just make sure sumfings gettin killed." He grinned. Klaus cracked his gloved knuckles.

"Very well. Then I shall indulge you. Xenos, Abhuman, blasphemies against the Imperium, all around! Gather around, and know why humanity truly, is superior." Klaus said, as he began to dive into his memories

/

Grenadier 652733-172948 'Klaus' of the 5th Death Korps of Krieg Siege Regiment squeezed the trigger on the heavy bolter turret. Torrents of bolter shells were shot out, as small amounts of conventional charge forced the bolt shells out of the barrel. The rocket propellent base shot the bolt shell forward. It spiralled around, digging into the carapace of the Tyranid Warrior. The diamantine tip had no trouble punching through its chitin exoskeleton. The shell exploded within, ripping internal organs and muscles, turning it into gristle and paste. The Tyranid Warrior let out a rolling howl as it died. The Hormagaunts and Termagants around it suddenly became confused, leaving them victim to the massive, boiling volley of las bolts that came shortly after. Tyranid exoskeletons were dense and thick, created to protect the creature within from harm. However, when encountered with hundreds of crackling, superheated volleys of las bolts, there is nothing it could do. The small vanguard flanking force was utterly ripped to pieces, though they all knew that to the Hive Fleet, it was not even worth noticing. The last tyranids were cut down with no mercy, what was left of their corpses collapsing on the ground. Thankfully, the Tyranids were not deploying in full force, unlike in the main city streets, where the sound of gunfire was endless, and so were the xenos. The planet, Mibarahn, was doomed. But that was not what they were defending.

One Korpsman ran out of the trench, unbuckling his flamer. He began to burn all of the Tyranid corpses into charred skeletons, the promethium licking hungrily at their charred skin and cracked exoskeletons. It was a new stratagem, suggested and developed by Lieutenant 542716-990125 'Felix' for defence of the Mibarahn's capital building, where vital intel was currently being extracted by the Adeptus Mechanicus, information that could help defeat the Tyranids. Klaus could see some merit in the Lieutenant's stratagem. After all, Tyranids ate their own dead to replenish their own. Deny them that, and they couldn't recoup their losses as quickly.

"Be advised, Third Platoon. Another wave of Tyranids are enroute to your position. Hold your position. Mechanicum Reinforcements are enroute. I repeat, hold position." Klaus heard from the vox. The Vox Caster fumbled with the vox for a few moments, before setting it down, taking up his lasgun. He slided in a new power core, before setting the lasgun to high charge. Pebbles began to clatter against each other. Klaus quickly manned the turret, as the platoon returned to their firing positions, cocking their lasguns, hellguns, several plasma guns, and a single bolter, belonging to the Lieutenant. The first Hormagaunts could be seen in the distance of the ruined city. Their skin was bone white, with an outlying purple carapace. Their blades and hooves were a deep red, and their yellow eyes peered at him. Those soulless, yellow orbs. The Lieutenant shot his hand up. The Hormagaunts howled, as they charged. More Tyranids followed, turning the city street into a swarming mass of chitin, blades, and saliva. Termagants, armed with their Flesh Borers rushed forward. Several Warriors came charging forward, armed with scything talons, tongues licking their teeth hungrily. The massive wave of Tyranids charged forward. 200 meters. 150 meters. 100 meters.

The Lieutenant shot down his hand, and fired his bolter. One Hormagaunt screamed, as its chest exploded in front of it, and it collapsed. At this, Klaus pulled the trigger to the heavy bolter, struggling to keep it under control. He was strong, but the recoil on the heavy bolter was so powerful he had to shoot in short bursts, lest he risk overheating the gun, or simply breaking his arms. Concentrated volleys of las fire scythed down Hormagaunts and Termagants in the dozens, while the plasma gunners focused fire on the warriors, their plasma rounds doing incredible damage to the warriors. The Termagants began to get into range, and they fired their organic weapons. Fleshborer beetles slammed into the dirt around him, as the blind beetles began to eat tirelessly at the dirt in the last few moments of their miserable lives. He felt a devourer round splat against his carapace armor, killing the worm instantly. He did not even acknowledge its miserable existence, as he let out another volley from the heavy bolter. A Hormagaunt reeled back, no longer having a head. A Termagant was sent flying back, suddenly losing its entire midsection. A Warrior howled in agony, as one of its limbs were blown apart, before its entire head was exploded into a pit of gore. It was like popping a pimple, instead the pimple was a domed xeno head. Greymatter and chips of bones fell to the gore soaked streets, as the body collapsed. The Hormagaunts and Termagants paused, as suddenly the force that was driving them was gone. The other warriors tried to regain control, but they were quickly focused down. The Hormagaunts and Termagants turned on each other, their leadership suddenly lost. They ripped each other apart, their only leadership completely gone. They ate each other's corpses, to sate the hunger that could never be relieved. Scything patterns of gunfire ended their miserable existence. Like synchronization, eighty empty power cells dropped to the floor, followed by the noise of eighty power cells being slid back into lasguns and hellguns. The ground underneath them began to quake. Suddenly, the ground erupted. Klaus grunted in pain, as he was sent flying by the explosion, landing flat on his ass. The Korpsmen quickly recovered, turning their guns to the sudden hole in their trench.

"Raveners!" The Lieutenant roared, as he fired his bolter. One Ravenor screamed in pain as it collapsed, a bolter round to the head silencing its cries. The other six snake like tyranids did not wait to share the same fate, as they attacked, using their scything talons to rip Korpsmen to pieces. He saw Karen, fending one off with her bayonet. Klaus took out his hellgun and fired, being strapped to his backpack. The ravener roared in anger as the barrage of lasgun rounds detonated straight in the center of its muscular tail, gristle popping out like confetti. It turned its domed head toward Klaus, it's maw slavering with acidic bile, promising nothing but excruciating pain for him. Its head exploded, turning its threatening look into a mushroom cloud of gore, thanks to a good bolt round from the Lieutenant, who was fighting off two raveners with only his bolt pistol and power sabre. The Lieutenant parried a blow from one of the raveners, giving another a good kick with his foot, pushing it back, as he slammed his power saber into the other raveners midsection. It howled, as he shoved the blade even deeper, and yanked it upward, severing its organs and carapace like it was nothing.

Karen gave him a nod, signalling appreciation, as the remaining raveners were quickly culled, due to concentrated vollies. The last one was impaled by the Lieutenant, as he dragged his saber down, ripping a large gaping maw in the raveners chest, yet with no blood coming out. The ravener collapsed, as it let out a final death rattle. Seven had been killed by the ambush. It was part of the job after all. It could have gone worse, though he noticed that the guardsman who had the flamer had been ripped in half messily. That could have been Karen, and he wouldn't have liked that. Though they were all cold, merciless drones, he felt something for Karen. He didn't know what it was, but he enjoyed the feeling.

"Burn them." The Lieutenant ordered, as he wiped the gore from his greatcoat. Klaus took the flamer from the dead guardsmen, as the others quickly piled up the bodies of both guardsmen and tyranids. Klaus pulled the trigger on the flamer. Burning promethium shot from the barrel of the flamer, as it quickly consumed the body pile in cleansing fire. Klaus cracked his jaw, feeling sore. He carefully stowed the flamer away, as it seemed another wave was coming. He manned the heavy bolter turret, cocking the massive bolter. Had it really only been ten minutes? He sighed, as another wave of Tyranids started to rush them. This was going to get boring. He thought to himself, as he pulled the trigger again, scything another score of Tyranids. They were coming in lght numbers. For tyranids, that was.

A bellowing roar alerted him to a particularly bad presence. He was rewarded with the sight of a approaching Carnifex, that was lumbering forward, two massive scythes ready to slice through flesh, two crushing claws ready to crack armor like wishbones. It stood at around twenty feet tall, though it was slouched. It looked like a massive mollusk, but Klaus knew never to underestimate Tyranids. They were killing machines, evolved to consume all living life. Its thick exoskeleton was proof to to their lasguns and hellguns, though the Plasma Guns could do some damage, it would be minimal.

"Grenadier 652733-172948! Grenadier 435612-983610! Missile launcher! NOW!" The Lieutenant roared, gunning down another warrior, as plasma gun rounds began to pepper the Carnifex. It roared in anger, as plasma rounds made searing wounds in the nooks and crannies of its thick exoskeleton, while other rounds merely descended down the armored exoskeleton, like bright blue droplets. Klaus let go of the heavy bolter turret, as another Korpsman took over, firing into the horde of xenos. He ran over to the missile launcher, taking the tripod base, and began to set it up, while Karen rolled the missile launcher to him. Their gloved hands touched, as they lifted the missile launcher up onto the tripod base, securing it tightly. Karen held the tripod steady, while Klaus took a rocket, and loaded it into the launcher. He kneeled down into the mud, as a thin rain began to descend from the heavens. His hand grabbed onto the missile launcher, one finger on the trigger.

"Fire at my command!" The Lieutenant yelled, his voice barely audible over the clatter of gunfire, as he continued to load rounds into the tyranid assault. The Carnifex howled, as it started to charge, quickly closing the distance. 100 meters. 50 meters.

"LIGHT THE BASTARD!" He roared, and Klaus pulled the trigger. The recoil was astounding, as the roaring warhead propelled itself from the rocket launcher. It let out a wailing scream as it flew to its target, colliding into the carnifexes exposed neck. It was letting out a piercing scream, as green fluid began to gather in its throat. Bio Plasma. The Carnifex once had a head. But after the combination of the combustion of the bio plasma, and the warhead detonating in it's not as protected throat, it no longer needed such a necessity. Its massive bulk teetered for several seconds before it collapsed, crushing three scores of assembled Hormagaunts, Termagants, and Warriors. Its neck began to pump blood and the remaining reservoirs of bio plasma into the road, making an oily green concoction. Karen gave him a light clap on the back, as they ran back to the trenches, manning their positions. The Korpsman who was manning the turret got off, pulling out his plasma gun, firing at a warrior, bringing it down low. Klaus pulled the lever back on the turret, and began to fire again. He quickly looked back at the ruined clocktower in the distance. Only five minutes had passed. He grunted, as he continued to scythe down more and more Tyranids, until the heavy bolter clicked, and it whined. Empty.

 _Fuck._ He thought, in anger more than anything, as he took out his hellgun and began to add into the soaking fire of the platoons line of continuous fire. They had long since gave up volleys, and instead fired at will. It was still effective, though the Tyranid numbers seemed endless. However, they wouldn't be endless for long.

"Reinforcements have arrived. Ave Imperator." The vox barked out, as blue bolts of energy flew past the Korpsmen's heads, smashing into the Tyranid line. Skiitari, in their red robes and with the symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus, a human skull with cybernetic enhancements on the other side, letting out a rain of gunfire. Also known as Tech Guard, once ordinary citizens or penal troopers, they had been "blessed" by the Adeptus Mechanicus, turning into mindless automatons. Literally. The assembled Skitarii squads began to push forward, adding into the massive wall of lasgun rounds, bolt shells, and plasma rounds. Another Carnifex lumbered into view, before it's chest exploded in bright blue fire, as a Techpriest armed with a plasma cannon fired at the Carnifex, chanting in binary. The Carnifex roared, as it suffered another shot, and it collapsed. The Warriors began to pull back, the Hive Mind realising this was not the most effective tactic. They did not stop firing until the last xeno had been exterminated, or were out of sight. The Techpriest saluted to the Lieutenant, making the cog symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus, before he marched with the platoon of Tech Guard back to the other side of the capitol plaza, where fighting was heaviest. Klaus took a deep breath of metallic air, accidentally wiping grime onto the forehead section of his helmet. The Tyranids had been held back at this position. For now.

Review Time

King Rocket: Unless your kind of into that kind of stuff... ¯\\_ツ_/¯

Kradonz: Though Nebetaruk has some memory issues, I could perhaps include more background info on our mysterious lord.

rc48177: A slight undersight on my part. Glad you picked it out :3

RedRat8: We can only hope!


	34. Chapter 34: Mend the Spirit

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

So here is another chapter. The longest one so far (but not by much)

Also, one of the most riskiest ones I have put in.

Anyways, hope you can enjoy!

Klaus stirred from his slumber, feeling someone prod him with a shoe. Only one person would dare to do that. He groaned softly, rolling over.

"Klaus! Wake up!" Lofn whispered, as she gave him another soft kick. He rose up, cracking his knuckles underneath his gloves, which muffled the sound.

"You better have a good excuse for waking me up…" He grumbled, slowly rising himself up, feeling his knees pop. He hadn't really been doing too much exercise lately, though the constant walking certainly helped alleviate his problem.

"I do. Don't you remember?" She chuckled lightly, as she donned her helmet, the dull red lenses lighting up in power. Klaus also noticed that it was still dark. What time was it? He had long since forgotten exact time, relying on dawn, afternoon, sunset, and dusk, and of course, night. He quickly remembered why she had woken him up so early. To find the tomb. He dredged into his mind, trying to remember any clues of the vision he had been given. Near a town named Astranaar was the only real clue he had. First, they had to find this town, and then, find the tomb. What was in the tomb anyways? He didn't know, but he wanted to find out.

"Very well. Let us move. It won't take long for the orks to wake up." He mumbled. She nodded, and began to lead the pair through the thick underbrush and woods. They jogged quietly, both trained to endure. But Lofn being Lofn, the most curious xeno/abhuman Klaus had ever gotten to know, and perhaps, the only one, began to ask yet another tirade of questions.

"Why do you trust me?" She asked suddenly. He paused. What did she say? She took his silence as confusion, which was true, and continued.

"You said that you would not allow the orks to defile this tomb, belonging to the emperor, which I can understand. But you never told me that I could not come. Why is that?" She asked, her voice soft, as they had not gotten far from their original campsite. Klaus cursed inwardly. This was something that was starting to repeat itself, and he loathed when it did. She had to ask the questions most would ignore, didn't she? He wondered if he could try to evade the question, but that wouldn't work out so well. He took a deep breath, and sighed. There were hardships in the job, after all.

"Truthfully, I do not know anymore." He said, a set of words that he thought he would never say. It was a statement so random that he could practically see the surprised look on her face, even through her helmet. He decided to take advantage of this, and press forward, so he could hopefully, end the tirade, here and now.

"I do not know anymore. My logic and instincts concerning you have become cloudy, and I do not know why. I have done things that I can no longer comprehend, things that I can no longer understand." He mumbled, looking at the ground, his hand scratching a phantom itch on the back of his neck he could never hope to satisfy. He clenched his teeth, as he forced out his next words.

"I ask myself why I do these things, I scream to my mind, beg it for any answer, as if it can soothe the burning desire for my ability to understand my own actions. But it cannot reply, it does not have any logical explanation. My mind is silent. It is silent, only, and I shall repeat myself, ONLY, around YOU." He whispered, pointing at her.

"I have realised that around you, things that normally seem logical to me, no longer make any logical sense. Whether this is your doing or not, I have yet to know." He said solemnly, lowering his finger, before looking straight at her. They had both stopped walking, and his fists clenched, the tightening of leather gloves being the only audible sound, rather than the metallic breathing of Klaus.

"I have no answer to your question Lofn. I cannot explain why I did not forbid you to come with me. I cannot answer why I continue to help you. I cannot answer why I continue to look out for you. I cannot answer why I continue to check if you are in good will, and good health." He rambled on, before he stopped himself. He took a deep breath of recycled air, and steeled his will, for what he was going to say next. His fists loosened from their balled formation. His anger quickly fading away.

"Lofn, I… I can no longer explain my actions when it concerns... you. However, do not take this as an insult, as of right now, this is not what I am implying. Perhaps you are a good spirited person. Perhaps you are a nice person. Perhaps someone out there truly loves you for who you are. But know, that I can no longer offer you any solace when it concerns my actions, to you." He said, as he looked away, as he impatiently awaited several reactions.

One was for Lofn to merely keep going, throwing his confession away like it was trash, which was something he dearly hoped to happen. This was the worst moment of his entire life. It was like he stepped in grox shit, which was under a landmine, which was under a Tyranid Mawloc, which was under a Necron Monolith. Nothing could beat this. Here he was, discussing his actions to an abhuman/xeno, and why those actions did not involve killing or purging her.

Another reaction he expected was for another question, one that he could probably not answer.

What he did not expect though, was for her to slowly creep forward, until they were only inches apart. She looked up at him, her sleek, black oval shaped helmet staring at him. Something deep within his mind, something ancient, something primal, told him to forgive her. Forgive her? For what? Her ability to leave him speechless? For her actions? For what he did to her? Everything he did was justified! Deserved! Who was he if not honest? She deserved NOTH-

She embraced him in a hug that he did not see coming. His hands shot up involuntarily at the action. It was so quick that he barely had time to register it, and in addition, her grip around him was like adamantium. He huffed. Great, she was doing this again. But this time, something was different. She was making a strange sniffling noise from within her helmet, her body slightly twitching and convulsing as she continued to hold onto him. It took him ten seconds to realise that she was… wait… was she… was she… crying?

He quickly looked at her two red eye pieces, her head pressed against his chest, and noticed they were foggy. He paused, his mind quickly going over his words. Were they that hurtful? No, he didn't say them with any malicious attention. So what did he say to provoke this? He found out he didn't have to wait long for an answer.

"That was the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me." She whispered, so quietly he barely even registered that she was talking. Klaus didn't know how to react. What did he do? Part of him wanted to throw her off of him. Another part wanted to keep moving, for he was wasting time. But a small, yet powerful part told him to do one thing. Comfort her. Long ago, he would have killed her already. Not a second thought. But his work here was far above what he would do in the Korps. Things have changed, and so had he. Judging the situation he was in, only one answer made any real sense. He silently prayed to the emperor to forgive him for this moment of weakness, for what he was about to do. He slowly patted her on the back, the only action he was capable of doing at the moment, for her arms had went through his arm pits, limiting his movement. It was rather awkward, as he continued to slowly pat her on the back.

"Thank you. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you." She whispered softly. She tilted her head up to him, looking into his eyes. He realised with a start how bad her life must have been. Eldar are arrogant, that was clear. They thought all life below them was lesser, which could be true of some. So what was life for her on the craftworld? She must have been treated horribly, like scum, perhaps even worse than a human would have. Perhaps his confession was the sweetest thing she had ever heard, because no one had ever bothered to talk to her in the first place. It was a plausible explanation, as he hadn't really said anything that someone may consider sweet. He realized that she was waiting for an answer. He coughed, clearing his throat.

"Your thanks is not needed..." He said back, as they looked into each others eye pieces. For several seconds this lasted, but to Klaus, it felt like a millenia. Bright Vermillion peered into Aging Gold. Neither could read the others facial expressions, but they had a general idea of what was happening. Within Klaus, a maelstrom of raw emotions and unchecked and unhindered thoughts ran through his mind. He valiantly tried to control them all, but he could not. How much had he changed already? How much longer would it take before he could no longer recognize himself?

"But it is welcome." He said finally, as she got off of him. That was hard. Really, really hard. Perhaps the hardest thing he had ever done, and he hoped that he wouldn't have to do it again. But with his astronomically shitty luck, he told himself that this would not be the first time he would have to comfort someone, and that he would have to get used to it. They stood there awkwardly, staring at each other for around two minutes, neither having the guts to bring up what just happened.

"Alright… let's… let's go." She finally managed to say, as she began to walk again.

"Wait, where are we going?" Klaus asked, as he prepped himself for what would come next. She turned to him.

"We are heading to Astranaar. We don't know where this tomb is, only that it is somewhere around there. We'll try to find some information from the locals." She said, as she turned away, and began to jog. Klaus took a deep breath, as he began to catch up to her. He couldn't get a break from this hell, could he?

/

Nebetaruk watched the clothier with a dead, soulless, vicious glare, as she continued to fix the numerous holes and rips in his robes. The C'tan shard was placed on the table, very, very close to him, his staff of light in his left hand. He didn't carry the the C'tan shard, as his right hand was currently under maintenance work, as some pesky water had gotten clogged within his joints, and the nano scarabs were persistently trying to get the foreign substance from his shell. He was rather diligent on explaining what he would do to her if she even tried to touch the shard, and was pleased to see his attempt at intimidation had worked.

After his two minute explanation of how he would flay her skin off of her, and wear it as his new robes, and take out her non essential organs, and slowly feed it to her, one at a time, and after that, slowly ripping her spine out of her body, cleaning it, and using her spine and her skull as a puppet to keep him company, she expressed her excitement of how she would not touch said shard. It was rather stressful work for the clothier, as a good rule of thumb was to never piss of a Necron, no matter the size or rank. He watched her every movement, how her hands expertly took needle and thread, and began to patch the holes in the cloth. Several spools of fine fabric, both of the black and green that he requested lied nearby, and she often reached for it. His eyes never moved off of her, which may have triggered a flight or fight response from her, as she twitched every time he made any sound, or any time he moved, often screwing up. She looked up at him fearfully, expecting a verbal tirade of insults. He didn't say anything, and he gestured to her work with a lazy wave of his cold, metallic hand. He was patient though, and he didn't mind as she went over her mistakes. Afterall, he wanted his robes to be perfect, though its original purpose had long expired. He wasn't really too concerned about his identity anymore, as he was quickly becoming a legend, a rumor in the kaldorei collective. He had already overheard several, grossly over exaggerated tales of himself, of how he slayed the mighty beast of Blackfathom Deeps with his bare hands, or how he arose from the ground like a zombie, killing enemies for their goddess. This was something he simply could not ignore, and he chuckled lightly, a rasping noise of metal grinding against each other. The clothiers eyes shot up at him, her white eyes scanning his facial features.

"Keep working." He said quietly, and she obeyed without a second thought, as she began to work on the right sleeve of his robes. The irony was so rich, he couldn't help but chuckle again. The Necrons were feared by all life. And while he was not as genocidal as other fellow Necrons, he certainly didn't care much for the living himself. They were all insignificant little specks in the eyes of the cosmos themselves. Sure, so was he, but when you were immortal, and nearly impossible to kill, being insignificant was something he didn't have to worry about. The living only had one life, and then they would die. Simple as that, nothing more, nothing less. Technically, Nebetaruk had already died. Though he was dead physically, he still had his conscience.

And here, he was admired, and his actions were appreciated by living beings! Willingly! They valued his actions! What he do, rather than butcher some cultists and demons? Perhaps they were more like the eldar then just looks. Maybe they were slowly dying out like all organics, and they clung onto any hope of surviving. Maybe that was why he was admired, even though he didn't actually… you know, do anything worth noticing. Once an empire was going down, it was going down. He knew how it would go down first hand. Badly, for all parties involved.

"Lord Nebetaruk!" A familiar voice said, and he practically had to keep himself from groaning, as he turned around. Thelinda stood there, in her usual combat gear, which didn't seem to do the best job at protecting her. Maybe to make her agile, but still…

"I thought I told you to leave me. I still have my meditation to do…" He grumbled, as he looked down upon her.

"I am aware, and I apologise. However, after hearing of your courageous deeds, many have decided to throw a feast in your honor!" She said happily, smiling brightly. He paused, his mind completely frozen. Then he let out a hearty round of laughter, that sounded natural to him. Of course, in reality, it caused both of the kaldorei to flinch in pain, as his screeching and grinding howls rang in their ears.

"A feast? In my honor? Oh please! How much of a fool do you think I am!" He chuckled lightly, before realising the serious look he got.

"Wait… you're serious?" He said, quite surprised. He certainly didn't expect such hospitality. Or any reaction really. Perhaps the Kaldorei admired him too much.

"My words are as honest as yours." She quoted. He recognized his own words, and chuckled lightly.

"Using my own words against me… I applaud you. I must say, you are the most daring of your kind, Thelinda." He pointed out, noting the pleased smile on her face. Let her feel confident. It would only be her downfall.

"Very well, I shall attend, though don't expect me to be able to eat anything. When does it begin?" He asked.

"It is about to begin! Come!" She said excited. He looked back at the clothier, who was still sewing his cloak. He would rather not take the shard with him, as some could try to steal from him. However, he would rather not leave it here. He formulated an idea, one that he didn't like, but one that he would do.

"Clothier." He said, attracting the kaldorei's attention, as she put down her instruments.

"Find me a closet, or a safe. I shall lock this shard up. Remember what will happen if you even consider touching it, and remember how I will carry it out." He said coldly. The clothier nodded fearfully, and Thelinda sighed, as the clothier rose up, and began to search her house for a secure spot to hide the shard. Soon, they had found a decent hiding spot. He took a deep, false breath, as he carefully put the shard within the small safe. The clothier wrapped chains around the box, and put it in the far corner of her room.

He walked out of the house, seeing Thelinda waiting for him.

"You seem excited." he noted dully. He wasn't too excited for the event himself, but he would not turn down a gesture of appreciation, no matter how ironic it was. Thelinda began to lead him through the dark streets, and he could only feel a sense of dread. He felt that something was going to throw his world all over. He didn't know how right he was.

/

Lofn took several unsteady steps onto the bridge, testing its general strength.

"Oh man up." Klaus snorted, as he got onto the small bridge, as they walked to the island. The town of Astranaar. Strange name, but Lofn had heard worse. She followed him, as they got uncomfortably close together as they crossed the bridge. Neither had the guts to bring up what had happened around half an hour ago, and she would rather leave it like that. It was a private moment, that neither did want to share, for similar reasons. She waved to the locals, as they both got curious looks. The island was rather large, but even though it was night, many of them were moving around, most heading in the same direction.

"Where are they going?" Klaus asked, his voice heavy with disdain and scorn. She groaned, rubbing her helmet, forgetting she had it on the first place. His hatred of things not human was going to be a thorn in her side, and would limit his chances of survival by himself. She was happy that at least he had stopped himself from killing them brutally, though he still carried his lasgun in both hands, and she couldn't help but notice it was loaded, and his finger was on the trigger. He thankfully wasn't trigger happy, but him strutting his stuff wasn't a good thing either.

"An event, perhaps." She suggested, and he shrugged. He saw a family of kaldorei, as they were called, heading down the road toward the center of the town.

"Shall we follow them?" Lofn asked playfully, turning to Klaus. He merely grunted, putting his lasgun over his shoulder with its strap.

"Whatever finds us the emperor's holy work." He said simply. She understood his words good enough, as they began to walk through the winding city streets. She looked around, looking at the strange way the houses were built. They looked similar to eldar architecture, in very few ways, though it was primitive. They were silent, as they continued to walk, looking up and down the. She felt the need to strike up a conversation.

"This is… nice, isn't it?" She began, getting a disgruntled look from Klaus from underneath his gasmask.

"Perhaps it is. What matters is, why are you asking?" He retorted. She sighed. He was a lot more open than when they had first met, but that hadn't changed the way he talked to… anyone, really.

"You really need to work on your social skills." She commented. To this, he chuckled.

"Social skills? Perhaps you forget who I am." He replied. Yes, she knew what he was. A killer. A guardsman. A sociopath compared to other humans. And possibly, a friend.

"A soldier who is ready to die for the emperor, I know. We all die, but not all of us will truly live." She said, remembering the quote said by

"Wise words, but a guardsman life is to die. I will never truly, live. Maybe you will live a happy life, but I will never accomplish such deeds." He retorted.

"You're bad at this." She pointed out. To this, he shrugged.

"When all of your companions do not speak, and the only time you are spoken to is by a superior, some things are not as well needed as others." He commented. Lofn sighed. Perhaps now was not the time. They didn't talk, as they continued to follow the kaldorei family. Finally, after twenty minutes of walking, they came into a large building, that appeared to be a tavern of some sorts. They looked at each other, and Klaus stepped forward, opening the door for her. She gave a short nod, as she stepped in. She scanned the room, and then stopped. No. It… It couldn't be. But it was. It was a… a...

"Necrontyr..." She whispered, drawing her witchblade, readying herself for the inevitable fight to come. Klaus pulled out his lasgun, aiming it at the Necron's head. The Necron looked at her, and the being pointed its staff at the pair.

"Eldar..." It replied. The attendants looked to and from the combatants, and Klaus pulled the trigger.

/

Nebetaruk wasn't too excited for the feast, as he sat down on the far end of the combined tables. A fine tablecloth was set, and soon, food was laid before him. He couldn't tell if it looked good or not, as his culinary palette was sixty million years old, and therefore, non existent. However, judged by the surprised look of Thelinda, who sat next to him, it was supposedly good. Around one hundred kaldorei and the other creatures, draenei, if he was correct, were all looking at him. He realised with a start they were expecting something from him. A speech perhaps? He glanced at Thelinda, who was also looking at him expectantly. There were a few things that he could do, but he wasn't sure which one to do. He cleared his throat, a raspy metallic grinding coming from within.

"You may go ahead." He said simply. That seemed to be enough for them, as they began to dig in. Nebetaruk was still worrying about the shard. He felt like he should have taken it with him, but he felt like something bad would happen if he took it. Though he no longer had any guts left within him, he still trusted his instinct. Even though he no longer had a physical brain, he still had many instincts within his conscience. So he trusted them, and left it there. He just hoped that the Clothier did not have the guts to touch it. He wasn't too keen on ripping a kaldorei to pieces, but he was a man of his word. Their still appeared to be more guests coming in, as their were still plenty of open seats at the tables. Where were they even getting all of this food anyways? He simply sat there, staring into open space. Well he was, until two guests came in, and he rose up in a second, getting curious glances from the occupants at the table. Everything he had been thinking of had been flushed away in around 2 milliseconds. Everything, and everything, was focused on the two who had just came in. One was dressed in a black greatcoat, and a skull face mask and helmet glared at him, and rose his rifle. The other was dressed in ornate and colorful robes, with a black, ovalish helmet, with two red eye lenses gazing at him.

"Necrontyr…" The eldar whispered, as it clutched its witchblade. The others at the table noticed the two at the door of the tavern, and realised with a start that they were armed.

"Lord Nebetaruk… who… who are they?" Thelinda whispered to him. He completely ignored her.

"Eldar…" He growled, pointing his staff of light one handed at her. That was the last thing his left optic sensor detected, until a bright beam of energy slammed into it.

He stumbled back, as his left eye was completely ruined. Of course, it would not last long before it was fixed, but it was an excellent distraction. The Eldar lept at him with the agility he had grown a hatred for, as it gracefully flew over the table, and slammed him into the other side of the room. It's blade was humming with psychic power, generating a thin field of energy around it. The blade slammed into his shoulder, and he snarled, as the psychic energy within the blade ripped his Necrodermis apart with no difficulty. He lashed out with his other hand, sending the eldar farseer into the air, who gracefully landed onto a table, breaking it in twain. The human let out a burst of las bolts that struck him in the midsection, pushing him back. The occupants screamed, as many ran out, while few pulled out bows and swords.

"This is between me, and them!" He roared, as he parried a blow from the eldar farseer that would have cut him in half, ducking under a lasbolt that would have struck him in the head. The kaldorei obeyed his command, but they still had their weapons drawn. He swung his staff of light, trying to not kill the eldar. After all, he needed them alive. The eldar ducked underneath his swing, as it returned a blow that made a deep cut at his neck. His head teetered back, as his neck yawned open. The farseer kicked the opening of his neck with so much power his head was sent flying from his neck, as it clattered to the floor.

"Eldar, Human! I have no quarrel with you! Lower your weapons, and you shall not be harmed!" He roared out in anger, as his body snatched his head, screwing it back on. The nano scarabs within the phylactery rushed to save their master, as a tirade of las beams slammed into him, pushing him back.

"Never!" The eldar screamed out with defiance, as it leaped at him, slicing off his arm that held the staff of light at the shoulder with no difficulty. He snatched the eldar by the throat with his other hand, as he held it up into the air, just putting enough pressure to stop it attacks. The eldar clawed at his hand with its own, as he slowly squeezed the life out of it. He was interrupted, as a roaring chainsword dug into his chest. He howled in anger, as the eldar farseer fell out of his grasp, as the human attacked him in melee. His swings were clumsy and not thought out, but they were certainly potent at pushing him back. He snarled, as he slammed his fist into the human's chest. He could hear the satisfying sound of ribs being broken, after all, he didn't put too much energy in it. But to his surprise, the human still fought relentlessly. His arm that still held the staff of light snaked up to him, and he snatched it, as it quickly reattached to his shoulder joint in a fuse of sparks, kept shut by the tireless nano scarabs. He swung his staff at the human, who used the chainsword to try and deflect it. The two weapons smashed together, and they let out a bloodthirsty screech, as the two weapons howled at each other, trying to get the upperhand, ancient starforged metal squaring off with adamantium teeth. In reality, Nebetaruk wasn't actually pushing his staff against the human too hard, for he knew he was far stronger than a mere human. He needed them alive anyways and preferably, not maimed. However, the two were trying his patience. The eldar weaved through his defenses, as its blade shot up into his back. He growled, as he kicked out. It let out a cry of pain, as it grabbed its now wounded leg. It was broken, and it seemed it had been exhausted of its powers. Only one pest left to deal with, as he turned his head to face the human. He amped up the pressure slightly against the human, who was still trying to prevent his staff from decapitating him. At the last moment, he gave up, and the human pushed his staff back, only to get a knock at the back of the head. Nebetaruk put just enough pressure with his blow with the blunt face of his staff, to knock out the human, which proved to be what happened. The chainsword grew quiet in the human's hand, as it purred lightly, as the human collapsed to the ground. He turned around, and knelt down to the eldar, his metal finger going underneath its helmet, raising its head. The two red lenses burned with hatred, so powerful he could feel it like waves crashing down on him.

"When a Necron Lord wants something…" He said softly, just enough for only them to hear.

"You don't deny him." He said, chuckling softly, as he rose up. They had certainly put up quite a fight, but in the end, they were no match for his combat prowess. Thelinda ran up to him, worry etched in her face.

"Lord Nebetaruk! Are you wounded?" She cried out, looking at the two incapacitated combatants. He scoffed. Did she really think he was wounded? He was certainly beat up though, as the nano scarabs rushed to patch up all of the wounds that his Necrodermis could not regenerate, which was quite a lot in reality.

"I am fine. However, they are not. See them medically screened, and treated." He said, gesturing to them. Her eyebrows shot up so quickly they could have soared off.

"Treated? But they-" She said, before he shushed her with a metal finger. He smiled, though in reality, his mouth slit moved several millimeters in length upwards.

"They are the ones I am looking for…" He chuckled lightly. It seemed that things were being made easy for him.

Review Time

rc48177: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

RedRat8: It certainly would be :)

(Jesus, you people are inconsistent with your reviews)


	35. Chapter 35: Sacrifice

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!  
so here is a new chapter.

Anyways, hope you can enjoy!

Klaus awoke with a roaring headache. Wait, he was alive? He groggily opened his eyes, and noted with a start that his helmet had been taken off. He rose up, but was stopped, as he realized he was restrained to a table, leather straps holding him in tight. Great, he had been captured. Again. This would not go well on his personal track record. At least he had undergarments on, otherwise this would have been awkward. He realized in complete shock that the pain in his chest had subsided. This only meant one thing. His ribs weren't broken anymore. Someone had either healed him, or accelerated the regeneration process of his bones to astronomical levels.

"I see you have awaken. After all, I didn't hit you that hard." A metallic voice said softly, and he turned to the direction of where it was coming from. The Necron was sitting in a small chair, two green malignant eyes sizing him up. Klaus looked it over in unhidden hatred. The Necron was a midnight black, with a soft green glow surrounding him like an aura. Small prongs erupted from his back. Thick, sloped shoulder pauldrons enveloped his strangely small shoulders. A thin open slit served as a mouth, though they both knew that didn't really have a purpose. Thick talons that could serve as hands were clasped on its knees plates, tapping rhythmically on the metal.

"Damn Necron. You didn't have the guts to kill me, so you take me to be used for deranged experiments?" He growled. He had heard rumors of what Necrons did to captured specimens. They were apparently much, much worse than what the Dark Eldar had to offer.

"I am no Cryptek." It said, correcting him, as it rose to its full height, likely around 6 feet tall. It clasped its hands behind its back, making a sickening crunch.

"What do you want, aberration?" He growled. It scoffed, a harsh metallic voice that would intimidate lesser men.

"I know why you are here, human." It said, as it began to pace around the dimly lit room, as sunlight began to stream through the windows.

"You are here to defeat the lich king. To prevent the chaos gods from managing to find a way into the materium. To serve your emperor." It said, and Klaus held himself back from gasping. How did he know? Wait.

"You interrogated Lofn, didn't you?" He said, scowling. It chuckled, turning to him.

"It certainly wasn't that hard. She spilled everything out, and I didn't even have to lay a finger on her." It said heartily. Klaus sighed, and would have rubbed his face if he could. Lofn certainly did not have the mental fortitude as he did, though she certainly had proved herself in that fight. But that wasn't important. The important thing was that they had been captured. And he had to know what happened to her.

"What did you do to her?" He growled, clenching his teeth so hard he swore he could crack them. It did something that perhaps could be considered a smile, as its mouth slit twitched upwards.

"Nothing. She waits for you outside this room. Now, listen close." It said, as it stopped pacing around him, standing right behind him, so Klaus could no longer see him.

"I know why you are here, and your cause is certainly a noble one. So I will assist." It said. This time, Klaus couldn't help himself, and gasped. He recovered immediately, a scowl taking form on his face.

"How stupid do you think I am? You Necrons are obsessed of killing all sentient life! I have seen Necrons kill billions, without a single thought! You must think me a fool if I were to agree!" Klaus snarled at him. The Necron grabbed his skull with a vice like grip with one hand.

"You would do yourself a favor and keep quiet, you hypocrite." It growled, as one cold finger scratched almost affectionately at the back of his skull, where he felt an incredible itch at a certain location somewhere around there. It felt like something had punched a hole in his skull. It was heretically euphoric as the Necron almost lovingly scratched at the site of the itch, and it chuckled lightly, as the Necron leered over him, its two soulless, empty green orbs staring right at him.

"I am coming along. Nothing will change this." It said hauntingly, as it rose its staff. It swept its mighty staff, and Klaus prepared himself for death, and prepared himself to see the emperor he had failed. Instead, the tight sensation around his wrists ceased, and he felt loose. He glanced at where the Necron had swept his staff, and realised with a start that the bonds that had strapped him to the table had been cut so close to his hands that he could feel a numb pain flaring at his wrists. The Necron walked down the table, cutting the bonds that held his feet with a taloned hand, and opened the door. The form of Lofn enveloped his sight, as she ran him down with the agility only an eldar could have. He grunted in surprise, as her hands were over him in a second, checking over his body to see if their were any new wounds, her hands running up and down his shirt. A million words a minute were coming out of her mouth, and he cringed, as his ears took up the brunt of the sensual assault.

"Lofn please!" He snapped, trying to fend her off, but being strapped to a table for emperor knows how long had certainly put some strain on his muscles, and they ached. Lofn reined herself in control, her face a soft tinge of pink. His anger fading away, he wiped his brow, where a thin line of sweat had formed. At least she was alright. Her injury had appeared to become obsolete. Whatever the Necron did to them, they were no longer wounded, which was both equally good and worrying.

"Sorry." She said sheepishly, as The Necron came over, and gestured to the floor, where his wargear was laid messily.

"I shall await outside. Then we shall meet your so called group." It said, nodding to the both of them, as it walked out, its staff clicking rhythmically, as it closed the door behind it. Klaus waited until he could hear footsteps against the creaky wooden floor, and the sound of a door closing.

"You can't honestly trust it. Orks are one thing, but a Necron is a whole different matter." Klaus growled, turning his gaze to her, as he buttoned his greatcoat, numbness flaring in his arms. She sighed, playing with her hair with one finger, twirling it around in locks around her porcelain white finger.

"I don't trust it anymore then you do. But think about it. Do we want a Necrontyr roaming around the world, free to do what it wants, or do we want it within reach?" She said cryptically. He sighed. Ask an eldar a question, and it would reply with three answers, each equally horrifying. Of course, nothing was horrifying about what she said, but the situation was pretty bad already.

"I don't want a Necron here period. However, we lack the proper wargear to keep it down." He said, and she sighed.

"Regardless, we need to induct him into our party. I will not allow a Necrontyr, a Silent One, to walk around the world unattended. If things get out of hand, we will slay him. It will take some effort though." She said, running her hand through her hair. It parted along her fingers so smoothly, that it seemed to reflect the sunlight that was coursing through the window in the room. Klaus hated this idea, but something deep inside himself told him it was the best decision. Leave a Necron unattended, and it could possibly enslave entire civilisations to its iron will. He would not put an ounce of trust into it. Yet another creature that he would have to stamp out when his mission was done.

"Fine." He mumbled, as he examined his helmet, realising that their was a large dent in the metal, and that it had been broken. He growled, as he threw the helmet down onto the floor, getting a surprised look from Lofn. It was broken. Unusable. Part of what made him, him, was gone. He checked his gasmask. No, that was still fully functional. Otherwise, that would have been too much for him to handle in ten minutes. He realized that his hair was long. Longer than standards dictated. He needed to cut it. Lofn looked pleased that part of him was gone. Let her have this victory. He thought, as he slipped the gasmask onto his face, putting the airtube over his shoulder.

/

Bluddflagg took another drag of his cigar. It was his last one, so he took every breath of it he could. The cigar was going low, and he could feel the heat warming up his thick, calloused fingers.

"Spookums, any soign of da gits?" He asked, turning to his underling, who he had heard coming out of the bushes. Spookums shook his head.

"Ya, deres a bunch of trakks. Dey's old doe. Da gits left whoile we wuz sleepin." Spookums reported, scratching the flesh underneath his eye. Bluddflagg grunted in displeasure. Spookums was an excellent Kommando, and a good tracker. He knew he wasn't wrong.

"Where did dey go doe?" He said aloud, scratching his chin. His employers suddenly going missing was not a good thing, because then he would miss out on all of the loot and killing he had been promised, and he would not be cheated out of a deal.

"Oo Kapn! Oi heer sumfing in da brush." Spookums said, pointing in the general direction of his other left. Bluddflagg turned around, to see them emerging from the bushes.

"Ooo dere ya were. I thought you too was zoggin. Uvvawoise, I wuld have ta give back Mista Nailbrains teef." He grinned. It seemed that his jest had the desired effect, and more, as they quickly shouted their replies back at him

"What? It's not like that with him!" She snapped at him, before Klaus added on

"I bear no such feelings for h- wait what?" He said in confusion, glancing back at her, who was quickly turning a tinge of pink. Bluddflagg grinned evilly.

"I do not understand, what are we talking about?" A third metallic voice said from behind them, as it emerged from the bushes. Bluddflagg's grin dropped the second he saw what it was. It was a Metal Boy. A Necron. Said Metal Boy was wearing lavish black robes, a sparkly staff in one hand. Two green eyes peeked out from the hood where it face was hidden. Bluddflagg snatched his sword, drawing it out of its squig hide sheath.

"Metal Boy!" Spookums yelped out. Mista Nailbrain turned around in an instant, pointing his Big Shoota at the metal boy, while Spookums took out his Rokkit Launcha, screwing on several rokkits onto the ignition prongs, while Clea watched the scene intently, eagerly soaking up all of this new information. A purple pointy ear came into view, and seeing what had happened, pulled out a woody shoota.

"Enough. Put the weapons down." Klaus growled, coming over to the orks, forcefully shoving their weapons down. Mista Nailbrain let out a yelp of surprise as the humie touched his prized Big Shoota, but Bluddflagg was merely impressed. Not many humies had the guts to touch an orks weapon, as normally, said humie would have been eviscerated. Mista Nailbrain let out a slew of curse words said humie ignored, as he turned to the Necron.

"Know your place Necron. I want no deaths that are not the enemies." He growled. Said Necron nodded it's cowled head, its two green eyes moving down with the motion.

"Regardless, we have some new information, regarding our objective." Lofn said, attracting all of their attention. The Necron waved his hand lazily at her, and she continued.

"According to our Necron friend, we have located a vault which could be deemed valuable. However, only several can go. Therefore, me and Klaus will go to investigate. The rest of you will stay. I trust the rest of you will not, brutally murder each other." She said. Klaus crossed his arms around his chest, and grunted underneath his mask. Bluddflagg noticed that he was missing his helmet, though he still had his gasmask, but it did not hide his raven black hair, with splotches of grey mixed in with it.

"So wot weze gonna do? Wait ere?" Bluddflagg growled, and the Necron nodded.

"Yes. They will return at sundown. It is not far from our current location." The Necron said, answering him. Bluddflagg groaned, cracking his massive knuckles.

"Ooo but dats borin! I wanna foight sumone!" Bluddflagg wailed. He was so desperately bored.

"Then you may fight me. But not now. Later." The Necron said. A wide grin creeped onto his face.

"Yer on." Bluddflagg grinned. Finally! Someone who understood him!

/

Thelinda had high impressions of Lord Nebetaruk's so called 'group'. Already, she was vastly impressed by what had happened at the tavern. She knew it was hard to hurt Lord Nebetaruk, but they had done an impressive job of fighting him. It baffled her why Lord Nebetaruk had even spared them to begin with. He certainly wasn't the merciful kind, and she knew that he didn't really care about other people's lives. But maybe he needed them for something, but why, only time could tell.

But what she was seeing now was something she could not comprehend. These orcs were the largest ones she had ever seen! The largest one was the size of a tauren, both in height and width! The others were certainly impressive, but the sight that also confused her, was that their was a Forsaken sitting on a small boulder, watching the scene unfold in front of them. It had been roughly two hours since they had met the rest of the group, and right now, the massive orc and Lord Nebetaruk were dueling. He had shrugged off his robes, putting it right next to her, as the titans duelled. What shocked her even more was that the orc was clearly regenerating, though not like how Lord Nebetaruk did it. The orc was constantly regenerating from his blows, and it's pain tolerance seemed to be through the roof, as the massive gashes in its chests and hide only made it snarl in pain and anger. Some of its earlier wounds were already gone, now thick scars, while others were in the process of healing. It didn't heal as fast as Lord Nebetaruk could, but the fact that he could heal in the first place put some pressure on Lord Nebetaruk. She watched as the orc swept its massive sword, cleaving Lord Nebetaruk in half. His legs fell to their knees, as his torso fell to the ground. Its two arms grabbed its legs, and pulled them down, as they fused together in a bright burst of light. Lord Nebetaruk rolled out of the way as the orc tried to step on him, and parried a massive sword blow. Their strength seemed to match each others, as they slammed their weapons together, each pushing against each other as hard as they could, trying to get the advantage. A screeching cacophony erupted from the two weapons, as their owners used all of their absurd strength to fight each other off. Then, the orc kicked out at Lord Nebetaruk, who crumpled under its weight. The orc let out a hoot of laughter, as it offered a hand to Lord Nebetaruk, who took it. The orc yanked Lord Nebetaruk up like a toy.

"Gud foight Metal Boy! Dat round goes ta me!" The Orc grinned widely, showing its massive tusks that would put a troll to shame. Lord Nebetaruk brushed off his shoulders with one hand, looking up to the orc.

"So far the score is six to four, am I correct, Bluddflagg?" Lord Nebetaruk said humorlessly, as he waited for his skin to heal over, liquid metal covering his wounds. The orc scoffed, as its hand reached up to its jaw, and cracked it.

"Yeah, but i'm gunna katch up to ya, yoo squiggy runt. Now, lets ave anuvva frow!" The now named Bluddflagg grinned, rolling his massive shoulders, which in turn, moved the massive pile of junk that was mounted onto his shoulders. It seemed to be some sort of armor, but it didn't do the best job of covering his bulging muscles. They rushed each other down, letting out roaring battlecries, as Lord Nebetaruk was sent flying by the charge.

"So, what brings you here?" A voice said aside her, and she jumped slightly, glaring at the Forsaken who had snuck up on her.

"Depends what you and the greenskins are doing so far in kaldorei lands." She replied hastily, giving her a glare.

"I was assigned by the Dark Lady herself to escort them here." She replied with pride. Thelinda raised an eyebrow. What would she want from them?

"I don't see what anyone could want from them." She said, looking back at the other two, who were rowdily cheering their leader on, as Bluddflagg was slammed back by Lord Nebetaruk, who had leaped into the air, kicking him in the face with his foot. Bluddflagg let out a string of growls, as he fought Lord Nebetaruk back with a flurry of blows that Lord Nebetaruk parried and dodged.

"Their looks are incredibly deceiving. They are truly fascinating subjects." The Forsaken said, almost dreamily, which earned her a confused glance from Thelinda.

"Enlighten me." She grunted. The Forsaken moved her grey hair out of the way of her eyes, as her two red eyes peered at her from underneath her cowl.

"These orks feel no stress, no angst. They care little for their losses, and shrug them off as a fact of life. The Kaptain has told me that almost his entire crew had been killed when his ship had crashed, and he didn't even care! They don't ask what is the purpose of life, or why we are here, for they simply don't care. What I have seen from them so far, is that they don't care why or how they are alive. They don't suffer from sadness, stress, depression. All they know is happiness. Happiness to fight, and happiness to die." She said, and Thelinda shivered. She ADMIRED them, and the Forsaken didn't do much to hide it.

"You admire them?" She said, slightly horrified. The Forsaken nodded, smiling.

"Of course. They have proven themselves quite worthy of the Dark Ladies attention. But what intrigues me is him." The Forsaken replied, waving to Lord Nebetaruk, who was warding Bluddflagg off from a fury of blows, trying to reclaim his right arm, which had been ripped off entirely.

"He intrigues me. He seems to be Undead, in a form. In that case, he would always be welcome in our lands." She smiled coyly. Thelinda couldn't help but agree. If everything he had told her was true, which she had no doubts of it, then he was already dead, but what was left of him was now in his metal shell. Added the fact he didnt care much for the lives of others, he would fit in perfectly with the Forsaken.

"Maybe." Thelinda said softly, as they watched the two combatants back up, preparing their weapons for battle.

"Alright metal boy! Dis un be da toi breaka!" He cackled, pointing his massive sword at Lord Nebetaruk as a challenge.

"Very well. Get to it." Lord Nebetaruk said, flourishing his staff, before slamming it into the ground, a bright field of green lightning arcing around him. To this, the orc only guffawed.

"Ooo hoo hoo, dat got em mad!" Bluddflagg grinned, as they charged each other, their weapons meeting with a clang of metal.

/

Ahzek Ahriman finished off the Harlequins insane laughter with an inferno bolt to the head. They were certainly being quite the annoyance, and they had already slayed a good amount of Harlequins, but the tropes came on coming, and soon, they would be overwhelmed. However, Ahriman felt that what was beyond this door was what the pair were looking for, as it was heavily defended. Ahriman let out a slew of prayers to the dark gods, as warp energy flared through his power armor encased hand. He shot out a flurry of doombolts at a charging Shadowseer, who nimbly dodged it. The Shadowseer was like an illusion, as every time it moved, it left a lingering image, before it dissappeared. He swung the Black Staff in his hand, impaling the Shadowseer, who let out a cry, before Ahriman stomped on its neck, ending its cries. Typhus was having similar problems, as the plague marine swung his staff, decaptiating a harlequin. As the body fell, countles contagions infected the body, and it quickly rotted before his own eyes.

"Typhus! Inside!" Ahriman yelled, as he prepared a barrier of warp energy, as they quickly retreated to the door. He let out volleys of warp bolts, warding off the tide of ever moving and laughing harlequins. As they got in, he summoned the warp barrier. A blue bubble of cascading warp energy filled the door, preventing anything from getting in. It wouldn't last long though, so Ahriman had to be quick. His interrogations of many captured eldar had led him to believe what the artifact looked like. It was a large black and green tome, with the mark of not only the chaos gods, but nearly every god of the warp pantheon. Even the corpse emperor would be found on it, which puzzled him. The Emperor always preached that he was never a god, but yet the Imperium still clings onto his corpse, trying to relive their ancient glories. It would be a matter of time before they fell, but that wasn't important. Getting into the forbidden realm was. Ahriman shivered in antipation. He would be the first one to travel between realms! Imagine all of the knowledge and relics he could learn of, and plunder! He could fix his worst mistake, the Rubric of Ahriman. The mistake that had turned nearly seventy percent of his chapter into Rubric Marines, souls of his friends and battle brothers trapped within their power armor, their bodies long turning into dust.

"Ahriman… the barrier will not… last long…" Typhus wheezed, turning his massive bulk to the warp barrier.

"It will suffice my friend." He said, his eyes lazily scanning the expansive room, looking for any green and black book. Then, he saw one. He smashed his staff into the ground, and disappeared in warp fire. Reappearing twenty feet away, he carefully took the tome out, his fingers brushing against the cover. The Mark of Khorne. The Mark of Tzeentch. The Mark of Slaanesh. The Mark of Nurgle. The Mark of the Imperium. The Mark of the Eldar. The Mark of the Orks. The Mark of the Necrons. Ahriman gently lifted the cover, his fingers carefully brushing against the yellow aged pages. Ancient black ink written in thousands of different languages, many long forgotten, greeted him. He spoke an Incantation, and he could feel warp energy pooling in his eyes, tingling his senses. As he continued to read, a frown formed on his ancient face.

"Hm." He said simply, before turning to Typhus.

"Typhus my friend. What do you know of salvation?" he asked. Typhus turned his massive bulk to him, his horned helmet hiding any facial expression. What that could be formed, as his face had probably rotted off and regrown many times.

"Salvation… is granted… to those… who are worthy…" Typhus growled.

"Good. If the path to salvation leads through the halls of purgatory, then so be it." Ahriman said, quoting himself, as he began to read the incantation. Powerful warp energy grabbed Typhus, lifting him into the air.

"WHAT? WHAT… IS THIS… TREACHERY?" Typhus roared wetly, as he floated within the air, the warp energy strangling him. Ahriman continued to read the foul incantations, as Typhus struggled against the invisible bonds. They tightened, and strips of his flesh and armor began to peel off, falling wetly onto the floor. He let out a muffled and wet scream, as his soul began to become loosened from his body.

"I'm sorry my friend. But power demands sacrifice. I think we all know that. Forgive me." Ahriman said, as the warp barrier collapsed. Harlequins leapt at him, as Typhus exploded. Typhus screamed, as his soul was not consumed by Nurgle or the warp, but by deities Ahriman could not even fathom. Ahriman let out a ring of insane laughter, as he was consumed by the warp. The sacrifice had been rushed, and for that, he would pay.

King Rocket: Well, not in the way that you thought...

Epsilon Vindicare: My apologies. I never played WOW myself, only playing the first three warcraft games myself.

RedRat8: Not at all, and thank you!

Varangue: Yep!

Guest: Never played WOW, but glad I got the experience down

Commissar Carl: Thank you very much, and I shall!

rc48177: Not any more ya git!

LordGhostStriker: That is the preferred stratagem after all...


	36. Chapter 36: Legion

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH here!

Sorry this chapter was short, my sisters birthday was yesterday, and I had alot of work to do to set it up :)

Anyways, two months, and already, we are at around 20,000 hits, 53 favorites, and 63 follows.

Thank you guys so much!  
Anyways, hope you can enjoy!

"I don't trust it." Klaus snapped at her. Lofn sighed, rubbing her face. He was being VERY uncooperative about finding this tomb of his. Surprisingly, the Necron knew where it was, saying it was somewhere near a place called Iris Lake. Of course, Klaus being Klaus, absolutely refused to believe it was there.

"I don't trust it either. But think about it. Why would it lie to us?" She said. To this he snorted, as they continued to walk through the strangely misty woods.

"The real question is why not? It is a xeno after all, and the xeno cannot be trusted." He growled. She furrowed her eyebrows. She would rather not bring up why he trusted her, (to some degree, at least).

"Then why would it be so persistent to come with us?" She retorted, even though she didn't know either. The Necron did not kill them, a far cry from what other eldar described the soulless metal creatures as. She didn't have an answer, but he did.

"To lead us into a trap, and finish us off. Are you this foolish?" He growled back. She pursed her lips. This was the only person that she would even consider to talk to, and this was how he was like. She would certainly have to do some work on him, though that would come later.

"Regardless, it's something." She said, as they came upon the lake. The water was a sickly green, as a thin green mist seemed to surround the woods and water like a thick smothering cloud of smoke. It certainly wasn't the most pleasant thing to breathe, and she coughed, her lungs getting rid of the seemingly nasty air. For once, she was jealous of Klaus's gasmask, who looked at her with something perhaps of humor, and maybe concern. They continued to walk forward, though she noticed that large random clumps of vegetation could be found on the soft ground as they walked. Large piles of leaves, mushrooms, and lichen, seemingly at random, grabbed Klaus's attention, as he approached one of the smaller piles with something alike of interest.

"Strange." Klaus said, prodding one of the piles of vegetation with his shoe. It snarled, as it rose a good seven feet tall. Klaus took several steps back, raising his lasgun.

"Huh. Strange Indeed." Klaus said, before he fired with his lasgun. A small clump of its skin burst into flames, and it growled, as it came lumbering forward, smacking wildly with its 'fists;. Klaus let out a grunt, as he was sent flying several feet away. She sighed, as she drew her witchblade. She focused a small reservoir of psychic energy, as she leaped forward, making several swipes with the witchblade. The witchblade, acting as a focus of her psychic powers, were unleashed on the creature. It howled, as warpfire began to consume the beast. It swatted at the flames that were quickly encroaching on its body. Klaus came over, ending its cries with his lasgun. His chainsword had been broken with the fight against the Necron, which was something he took as an insult against his strange sense of honor.

"A fusion of vegetation and flesh… this world will never cease to confuse me." He said dryly, as more of the clumps of vegetation rose up, making guttural growls. Their backs touched, as Lofn concentrated her psychic powers to make bolts of psychic energy. She let them loose, each bolt scoring a hit against the lumbering bog beasts. However, It only seemed to annoy them further, as they kept coming closer. Klaus was having similar problems, as his rather precise firing patterns were not enough to keep the bog beasts down. It would force them back several steps, but then they would come closer. The bog beasts were now a good thirty feet away, shambling forward rather slowly.

"We must concentrate our fire." She said, as Klaus turned around, putting his lasgun at the same level as her hand, which was swirling with blue energy.

"Point." He merely said. She pointed to one of the lumbering creatures. They fired at the same time, las beam intermingling with psychic energy, as they struck the beast's head. It let out a grumble, as it slumped to its knees, and fell. It was like a synchronized dance, as the pair kept firing with every point. The beasts were quickly brought down low by the concentrated volleys of both psychic energy and searing beams of photons. However, Lofn could feel exhaustion growing on her like fungus on a corpse. Her bolts began to slow, as she tried harder and harder to fling more bolts of energy. She hated this place, and cursed it for its considerably weak warp energy. Though she did not have to worry as much at attracting the gaze of the great enemy, she still hated that it made her look weak. Klaus snaked his arm over her shoulder, propping her butt up on his knee, as they turned to face the last bog beast. It seemed the be the smallest of them all, but it would still be dangerous, as Lofn did not have the energy to fight it in melee, and Klaus did not have a good melee weapon to ward it off either.

"Come on Lofn. One last shot. Bring it down." He said, as the last bog beast lumbered forward. Ten feet. She tried as hard as she could to draw in more warp energy, but she could not. She focused as hard as she could to bring in more warp energy, but she was utterly exhausted.

"One last shot." He mumbled. Nine feet.

"One more." He said, his voice mimicking worry. Eight feet.

"Do not disappoint me. Fire." He said, looking down at her. Seven feet.

"Lofn, I will do whatever you want for one day if you shoot it now." He said, forcing it out of him. A bolt flew out of her hand, striking the beast in the eye, It growled, as Klaus fired the lasgun, and struck it in the other eye. It fell to the ground like a rock, its body making a whump noise as it fell. Lofn smiled. He bet too much.

"You owe me." She said, looking up at him, smiling slightly. He sighed, as he realised what he had done to himself. He glanced back down at her, his pointed gasmask enveloping her vision.

"Can you walk?" He asked. She huffed.

"Yes." She said, though she was clearly lying, as she was taking greedy breaths, and struggled to even stand. Even Klaus could see through her lie.

"No you cannot. It appears that I must assist you." He grumbled.

"You owe me." She repeated once again. He groaned, stowing his lasgun onto his back, as one arm went beneath her neck, and the other went underneath her legs. With a grunt, he lifted her up, as they began to walk once more. Neither said anything for ten minutes, as Lofn focused on getting her energy back. Her head was pressed up against the cold metal armor plating of his greatcoat, and she looked up at him. He looked down at her, his cold blue eyes absorbing her features, before looking back up.

"I think this is it." He mumbled. She looked in the direction he was looking, and embedded in a small cliff face, was an ancient, black door door. And on that door, they saw the double headed eagle in faded yellow. The aquila. They stood there for twenty seconds, looking at the door with uncertainty, before at each other. Lofn had become very adept at reading his barely shown emotions, even through his mask. And right now, though he would never possibly admit it, he was as worried as she was, and also as uncertain. He took a deep breath, and looked back at the door.

"Into the maelstrom of battle and uncertainty we march, for we are the emperor's light." He muttered, as they came closer to the door, and he poked at a small, rusty panel with one of his fingers. The door slid open, and inside was a descending spiral staircase. She looked up at him, as he began to mutter prayers, his voice barely audible. She tried to copy him to the best of her ability, something that Klaus on the inside approved of. He began to walk down, as they were enveloped by the black void of darkness.

/

Klaus took the last step down. It was pitch black, and they had no way to see. He gently lowered Lofn to the cold ground, as he slid in a new power cell to his lasgun, putting the empty one in his backpack. He fired. For a brief moment, the corridor was illuminated. A small pile of wood could be seen in front of them, and a twisting stone corridor greeted them, before the light was gone.

"Strange." Klaus mumbled, as his hands reached out for where the wood pile was. Grabbing a stick, he put it down, and fired his lasgun again. The las beam struck the wood, igniting it. Without any fuel, the fire would not last long.

"Come." He said, as he led Lofn forward through the twisting labyrinth. It was one long, and continuous hallway, and they were silent, preparing themselves for what would await them within these halls. They soon came across a large, ancient chamber. In the center of the room was a small altar, an image of the god emperor. It was a small statue of gold, yet masterfully carven. Small spider webs were interwoven over the statue itself, a thin puddle of water forming around the steps. Rings of skeletons were found all over the room. Skeletons of vastly different races, most likely indigenous life forms lied, but strangely, their armor and weapons didnt even seem to be damaged. He examined one of the skeletons. Ancient armor still clung to its forms, weapons in its hands. Virtually nothing of the armor was touched, and it was nearly fully enclosed in it. Whatever killed them did it from either from the inside, or perhaps some strange sort of witchcraft and magick.

"What… what happened here?" Lofn asked in confusion, as they came closer to the shrine. Klaus did not answer, as he kneeled infront of the statue, keeping his head down low. He would not dare to disrespect the statue, but he had a question to answer.

"I do not know…" He answered truthfully, still looking down at the feet of the statue, prayers leaving his lips. Lofn stood beside him, as she looked at the statue, and then at him. She sat down next to him, patiently waiting for him to finish what he was doing. He took a deep breath, and sighed. For once, in a very long time, he felt calm. At ease. Something he didn't realise how much he enjoyed. They sat together, looking at the small shrine. Faintly, he could hear the bells of cathedrals, church bells ringing softly in his ears. He looked up, looking at the statue. Perhaps it was some sort of phenomenon, or an outside source? No, as he looked at the room in front of him, he realised that their were no exits, the only exit being the hallway they had entered from previously. Lofn noticed this too, and looked behind her. She was silent, something uncharacteristic of her, and he turned around. He paused, as a large pillar of dark red fire burned brightly in front of them. Roughly eight feet tall, the pillar of fire continued to burn brightly, and Klaus realised with a pause that the church bells were emanating from the pillar itself. The pillar of flames surprisingly did not even move, but he did not want to risk touching the flames. The flames licked at the air, the church bells ringing softly. He had never seen anything like this, but he knew those bells. Those were the bells played at cathedrals of the emperor, of the ecclesiarchy. He would know, as he had once fought with the sisters of battle. Though he did not enjoy the fact how zealous they were with purging everything of holy fire, it was something he did approve of.

"What is this?" He pondered, glancing at Lofn from the corner of his eye, to which she shrugged, though he noticed the smallest tinges of fear plucking her strings.

"I'm not sure…" She mumbled. They looked back at the pillar of fire, as the church bells began to ring faster. Though still quiet in volume, they were ringing constantly now, as a figure began to appear in the flames. Klaus pulled out his lasgun, and Lofn drew her witchblade. It seemed to be an ambush of some sorts, but he could not be certain. The church bells began to ring louder and louder, as he could see a hulking figure form in the flames themselves. It was midnight black, contrasting brightly against the pillar of flame, though for some reason it was blurry, and unfocused. Strangely, it seemed to be in the shape of a space marine, though he knew of no space marines who appeared in such an entrance. Lofn suddenly gasped, as horror overtook her face.

"I know what it is…" She said in shock. Klaus partially turned to her, concerned. If she knew what it was, and with such an adverse reaction, it couldn't be good.

"What is it?" He demanded. She looked at him, and he could see the fear consuming her eyes. Certainly not good.

"My father told me stories of beings from the warp itself that fought for the emperor. Ghosts of long dead space marines, long dead heroes, given one last chance to fight for the emperor… they could be spirits, they could be daemons… but they're…" She said, dragging her sentences, infuriating Klaus. He snatched her by the robes, shaking her.

"SPIT IT OUT!" He roared, though he instantly regretted it, as the pillar of flames died down, though it coated the beings shoulder pauldrons. A black helmet glared at him, fiery red eyes looking at them. Bones and skulls were embedded all over its armor, ethereal flames clinging to its armor like promethium. A large boltgun was held in its hands, though it was not pointed at them. However,

"They are… Legion. They're… They're... The Legion of the Damned…" She muttered, as the figure took one step forward. Then another. Then another. The figure came forward, one step at a time, boltgun still in hand. Every footprint he left in the stone was covered in ethereal flame, every footstep made a deep echo. The church bells still rang, but were soft and quiet. The only sounds were the figures menacing steps forward, and the slow breathing of Klaus, and the rapid breaths of Lofn. Finally, it stopped. Three feet away from them, its fiery red lenses started intently at them. Klaus took one step forward, looking at the mighty space marine.

"Who… who are you?" he asked calmly, not afraid of this… thing. The space marine glared at him, and then it spoke. Its voice was a low growl, a whispery collection of words spilling out of its mouth grille.

"I have many names. I was once Battle Brother Ranes. Battle Brother Nodon. Battle Brother Rachmiel. Battle Brother Turiel. I was once many space marines, each wishing for the same thing. One last chance to fight for the emperor." It said, before it looked down at him again, the flames on its shoulder pads and the flames surrounding its feet growing brighter and brighter, changing colors from blood red to sunset orange, and then flickering back to red.

"But I am no longer them anymore. I am Legion, for we are many."

/

Ahriman opened his eyes. His whole body felt like it was on fire, pain ripping and snarling at his nerves. He ignored this, as he tried to focus where he was. He then realised with a pause that he couldn't see himself. He could feel himself, yet could not see himself, which was peculiar. He raised his hand, and tried to look at it. He could not see anything. However, he could clearly see where he was in. The warp. It was chaotic, and made no sense, but it made just enough to understand where he was. Ahriman of course, was no stranger to the warp. Being one of the most powerful psykers in the galaxy, he was quite knowledgeable of the warp. However, the warp felt strange here. He reached out in his mind. The warp here was chaotic, yes. But compared to the warp he was familiar, it was like comparing a small kitten to a ferocious lion, saying that they were both the same, savage animal. He began to formulate theories of what had happened. Judging by the evidence he had so far seen, he was trapped in the warp, which possibly meant that he was physically dead. If that was the case, he would need a mortal host. One that was worthy of him to posses. He snorted. He always wondered how it felt like to be a daemon, and now he knew. Though he didn't think he was technically a daemon just of yet, which certainly would have been a success in some degrees, he was still trapped within the warp. He paused, as excitement began to overtake him. He could learn so much here! If he could figure out how to turn into a daemon, and change back into mortal form, no words could describe how much power he could have. He could learn so many secrets… Immortality… Unlimited Power… and most possibly, the one thing he wished for the most. Godhood. Ahriman cackled, rubbing his nonexistent hands. He would learn many things, but first, he would have to get back into the mortal realm. He floated forward, intent on finding the material realm, and finding someone worth harboring his intellect.

Review Time

Guest: Maybe, but yet again, currently the gang is in Ashenvale. I could certainly arrange for it though :)

rc48177: Well, you forgot the dark eldar, but no one likes to write about them, for many reasons *cough* lemons *cough*

King Rocket: It shall indeed, but not in the way you would expect it :)

RedRat8: Chaos always fights each other, but sometimes they can put aside their squabbles to beat other failures *cough* abbadon *cough*.

LordGhostStriker: I dont intend to add the weeaboo space communists, so dont worry :)


	37. Chapter 37: Operashun

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH here!

So here is chapter 37.

A few references here and there.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Klaus glared at the Legionnaire with confusion. What did it mean?

"What do you mean, 'we are many' ?" He asked in confusion, looking at the now named Legion. Legion did not even move an inch, moving his helmet to him.

"I am the collective of many fallen space marines. Each part of me has fallen in battle, like all adeptus astartes. They come from many chapters, some ancient and powerful, some new, and weak. However, they have one thing in common. They have all failed the emperor, sinned against him in some way. As they lied dying, they begged the emperor one last chance to redeem themselves from their past sins, to join the emperor on the throne of war, to meet him on holy terra itself. He has given them their chance, and thus, created me." Legion explained, before looking at Lofn. Klaus suddenly realised that the space marine would notice that Lofn was wearing the robes of the xeno, and thus, identify her as one. Almost as if the space marine was reading his mind, he lowered his bolter.

"Fear not. The emperor has informed me of your allies and comrades. You will need all of the allies you can get, for chaos comes." He growled. Klaus shivered in hatred. Chaos. Legion saw this, and nodded, before he continued.

"Ahzek Ahriman, the Black Sorcerer, champion of Tzeentch, has found a way to get into this realm. However, the transportation was rushed, and as so, he was punished. He is trapped in the warp of this realm. He cannot get in by himself, but he can still flirt with the court of mortals. He will arrive soon. However…" Legion said, trailing off, before chuckling.

"The bastard of Tzeentch has helped us greatly in our cause, indirectly. He has inadvertently sparked a civil war between the ruinous powers. The black crusade is crumbling, as the Nurglite and Tzeentchian warbands are warring against each other. The Khornate and Slaneeshi forces will soon join them. Cadia has been safeguarded, for now." He added on.

"But what… what are you?" Lofn said. Legion turned to face, her his ancient bolter still low.

"Something even I cannot explain." He said cryptically, before coming before the shrine. He kneeled, his fiery kneepads touching the ancient stone, though the fire did not move from his armor. It was like he was bound to the fire itself, or vice versa.

"Klaus. Lofn. Your cause is noble. Never forget this. Never stray from the path that the emperor beseeches you. For even in the darkest times, he is there." He mumbled, as he his black gauntlet touched the shrines head. It glowed brightly, before the altar began to rise up. Legion backed away from the altar, as it continued to rise and rise, until it stopped. The altar was now ten feet tall, but that wasn't the important part. Inside the altar, were pieces of armor and weapons. Klaus froze. Both Imperial and Xeno tech were there, and there were no lasguns. Legion put his hand into the altar, and gently took out the first piece of wargear. Klaus watched in shock, as Legion gave him a bolter. It was small and compact, not of the design used by Astartes, but it was beautiful. It was masterfully made, gilded to perfection. A gold and black bolter enveloped his hands, and Klaus looked it at pure admiration. Suddenly his trusty lasgun wasn't as beautiful. His gloved hands rubbed over its surface, and he could practically hear the bolter purr at its touch. The mark of the fifth siege regiment was placed on its side, as he looked it over. Inside the altar were dozens of bolt clips. He took them, one by one, and put it in his sack, noting that it added quite a lot of weight. He took his lasgun, and put it back into the altar. Legion moved forward, taking the next weapon. It was a glittering power sword. Klaus could barely make out several runes and hymns carved into the blade, as Legion kneeled, giving Klaus the mighty power sword. It was a saber more than a sword, but it was still amazing, and Klaus poked it at the edge. He felt a pin prick of pain, as blood began to run down from his thumb. Sharp indeed.

"It has been enchanted by the ecclesiarchy, to be particularly effective against the ruinous powers. You shall find that it will be quite useful later in your quest." Legion said, with something akin to humor, before turning to Lofn, who was just as shocked as he was.

"Do not worry. There is still something for you too." Legion said, as he gently waved to the other side of the altar. Lofn came over, looking at it curiously. Klaus put the power sword in its sheathe, fashioning the strap onto his bolter. It was heavy, but nothing he wasn't used too. Lofn was definitely heavier then she looked. Lofn came back into view, a beautiful runed staff in her hands. It was a large and golden staff, with red stones embedded in its triangular head. The staff head itself was a small triangle, and a faint blue field surrounded the field. She was wearing a new helmet, which was pointed at the end, making an arc up and around. It was pitch black, two red tear shaped eye lenses looking at him. Beautiful red and white gemstones were embedded on the helmet, around the area where the cheeks were, and also along the tip of the helmet itself. On the arc, more gemstones could be found, also a blood and ruby red. White swirlings, making ancient eldar runes were scrawled along at key points along the helm. Lofn put one hand on her hip, while with the other, she teasingly twirled her staff, leaning on it slightly. Klaus had to admit, she certainly looked more menacing in her new get up. That was why he was looking up and down at her for a good twenty seconds, right?

"Where are the rest of your allies?" Legion asked, as the two turned to him, their new wargear in hand.

"They await for us back at our campsite. I decided not to bring them along, as to defile a place of the emperor is heretical." Klaus admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Legion only nodded.

"Very well. Take them here." Legion said, as red fire began to lick at Legion's boots. Klaus paused.

"Wait. Where are you going?" Lofn asked, as the two watched in horror and confusion, as the red fire began to consume Legion.

"The others do not need to worry about my presence. Focus on the task on hand. I shall come only when you need me." Legion said mysteriously, before he disappeared, the red flame consuming his figure. The church bells rang once more, before the blackness within the fire faded. The pillar of flames died down, as they sank in height, becoming nothing more but a single ember, before it too, disappeared. The two looked at each other, then back at the altar, which still stood there in all of it glory. They looked at each other, a battle of willpower, before Lofn surrendered.

"I'll… I'll go get the others…" Lofn mumbled, as she began to leave. Klaus watched as she retreated, and sighed. He sat down next to a ring of skeletons, as he began to consult himself of his previous actions.

/

Bluddflagg grinned wildly, as his one beady red eye looked at the massive power klaw before him in admiration. It was massive, appropriate for his size. He grabbed one of the prongs, looking it over in growing excitement.

"Oi, Mista Nailbrain. Ope ya got da propa kit ta stikk dis on me." Bluddflagg smirked, turning to his underling, who was currently looking over his new kombi weapon in admiration. With the body of a shoota, and the bits of a Burna and Rokkit Launcha, Mista Nailbrain was still looking over the shoota like it was a child, not even sparing Bluddflagg a glance.

"Ya Kapn! I got da propa kit. Gunna be tuff wiffout a Painboy doe." He said. Spookums, who was still looking over his new toys shivered, and so did Bluddflagg. It was like saying the name of the chaos gods for humies. You never said the word Painboy, lest you risk summoning the insane dok. The two orks looked around nervously, though their worries were quickly put down.

"How did you even achieve such wargear?" The Metal Boy said aloud, as he held a small cube in his hand. It was a soft green, and green tidal waves of energy swirled around its surface.

"Probably dose Bludy Magpois." Mista Nailbrain suggested. The other two orks hooted, slapping their knees. They knew well of the Bludy Magpois kleptomania, and it was damn funny. To see sphess mehrines steal as much as the Deff Skulls, or Lootas, was pretty entertaining. The Necron didn't seem to get the joke, as he looked over the cube in his hand, before stowing it away. It looked over the large, new staff in hand. A green energy field surrounded its blade, while a smaller blade could be found on the butt of the staff. Ancient carvings were carved and scrawled all over the body of the staff itself. The Necron looked it over intently, before giving it a quick swipe, to test its weight. Bluddflagg looked back at the Power Klaw in hand, and grinned wildly. While he began to debate which arm he would sever off to put this downright killy klaw on, Clea and the purple elf, Thelinda, came into the expansive room, and looked at wonder at the masterfully made golden statue at the top of the now exposed altar. Bluddflagg snorted. Humies and their emperor.

"What kind of weapon is that?" Clea asked in horror, gesturing to the Power Klaw. Bluddflagg grinned, as he turned to face her.

"Dis be a Powa Klaw Dark Ranga. Oo wait! Maybe yooze can help me! Which 'and you fink I dun need?" He asked, as he displayed his thick arms, eagerly awaiting a choice. Clea looked up at him in a glance that showed surprise, before looking down at his arms.

"What hand do you hold your… shoota… in?" She asked.

"Left." Bluddflagg said. Clea pointed at his left arm.

"No no. Uvva left." Bluddflagg grumbled. Clea sighed.

"I still don't see why you need to sever an arm off." She mumbled. Mista Nailbrain came over into conversation, as Klaus and Lofn entered the chamber behind them, already getting their flashy kit.

"Da Powa Klaw is too 'eavy ta hold in ya hand. Ya gotta kut off an arm ta hold it, and den, yoo gotta woire it to da arm. Dun have a painboy wiff us, so its gunna be ard. Gonna need ya help ta open him up." Mista Nailbrain winked. Clea's eyes widened, and Thelinda giggled, seeing the situation that Clea had just put herself in.

"Human, how did you acquire such potent wargear?" The Necron asked coming over. Bluddflagg ignored their conversation, as he looked back at the beauty in his hand, and sighed.

"Yer gunna be moine. I'm gunna give ya a name." Bluddflagg mumbled, as he sat down, pondering the name of his new tool of mass murder.

/

Lofn watched as Mista Nailbrain and Clea practically dragged Bluddflagg into the woods, eager to begin the 'installation' process. She shivered. She knew that orks were savage, and barbaric, who only cared for waging wars. But the amount of child like enthusiasm Bluddflagg showed just to get his fore arm cut off, just to install his power klaw, which he affectionately named 'Skull Crusha' was downright horrifying. She twirled her new force staff, the black and white metal sparking in the moonlight. She too wondered where Legion had acquired such weaponry. Getting ork weaponry wouldn't be too hard, but stealing artifacts from the Silent ones was near impossible in her mind. She looked back at the Ghosthelm, which was on her lap. The Ghost Helmet, also known as the Ghosthelm, was a helmet that masked her presence in the warp considerably, allowing her to use her psychic power more frequently, and use it to an extent she could not have done before. She rubbed her hands over it affectionately, brushing off tiny pockets of dust that had accumulated on the helmet. Speaking of Legion… what was it? It had said that it was a collective of fallen space marines, but what did that make it? A Daemon? An unaligned warp creature? She didn't know anymore. She huffed, her hands rubbing her face. Nothing made sense anymore. Her grandfather had assigned this as a personal responsibility. He told her what a hero she would become. How no one would no longer judge her by her past, but what she had done here. But at what cost?

"You appear troubled." A metallic voice mumbled. She flinched, looking at who was talking to her. She clutched her staff tightly, scooting away from the Necron that had taken a seat with her. How did it even do it? She would have been able to hear it from meters away!

"Begone. I do not wish to talk to a silent one…" She growled as threateningly as she could, though she could tell that it didn't work as well as she wanted it to. She would have to ask Klaus how he did his work on intimidation.

"Yet you speak with the human like he is a comrade. He is not one of your kin, correct?" The Necron asked. She narrowed her eyes.

"He is a human. You are a Necrontyr. Their is a marginal difference." She snapped at him, before realising how she had defended him. The Necron noticed this too, but didn't bring it up, much to her relief.

"Perhaps there is. However, your petty grudges against my kin must be put away if we are to succeed. We all know of the dangers ahead, and petty rivalries will do nothing but fuel the fire." The Necron said. Lofn snapped her gaze at it.

"Should I remind you how you and your 'kin' nearly wiped out all life in the galaxy, and the old ones, all for your own jealousy?" She growled. The Necron seemed surprised.

"I am surprised that one of your age even knows of the war." It grumbled.

"I had learned from my mother. She had fought many of your kind." She retorted.

"And what happened to her?" It growled. She shivered in uncontrolled hatred. It stepped past a boundary, whether it knew or not. However, it wasn't content with her response, as it kept going.

"Due to your response, I will assume that she is missing, deceased, or was consumed by the chaos god Slaanesh. Shall I remind you of the countless atrocities that you have done to preserve your dying race? And yet, you have the arrogance, the nerve, to call my race murderers? Pathetic." It growled, looking at her.

"All biological life shall be forgotten. A stain to be wiped out. You and all of your kin will die, long, long before I do. Know where you step next time, whelp. As for next time, I will not let such slipups go." The Necron said, before it rose up, and left, disappearing into the darkness of the woods. She felt a drop of liquid fall on her hands. She looked down, and realised with a pause it was water. She looked up. It didn't appear to be raining. She then put her hands on her face, and felt tears welling up in her eyes. She cursed herself, as she wiped them away. Weak, weak weak! She screamed at herself, as she fought to control the feelings roiling within herself. She reminded herself to ask Klaus how he bottled it in so well.

/

"Ooo roight Kapn! We got da kit redy fur instalashun!" Mista Nailbrain said, smacking his hands together. A Makeshift operating table had been fashioned together. The Humie was also along, as his new glowy sword would prove to be an efficient cutting tool.

"Alroight ya git! Do da operashun!" Bluddflagg grinned, eager to get the operation under way. Mista Nailbrain nodded, as he began looking for the largest rock he could find.

"Oi! Clea! Oomie! Help me get dis rokk up!" He hollered, as he found a promising rock, the size of a large squig. Clea and Klaus looked at the Mek, and then at the rock. They grabbed it, and with one huff, they raised it.

"Roight Roight, dis way, dis way!" Mista Nailbrain yelped, as with they carefully walked over to the side of Bluddflagg.

"Kapn, klose yer eye. Dis only gunna hurt a bit." Mista Nailbrain said with savage joy. Bluddflagg obeyed, and Mista Nailbrain swung the rock with all of the strength he contained. The rock smashed into Bluddflaggs skull, knocking him out cold. A rumbling sigh came from Bluddflaggs chest, as he sighed. Clea gasped, dropping the rock, nearly crushing Mista Nailbrains toes.

"What did you do! Did you kill him?" Clea asked in complete shock and horror, earning her a confused glare from both Klaus and Mista Nailbrain.

"An ork is very hard to kill. They can survive even if you severe their head off." Klaus noted, which made Clea's gob drop. Mista Nailbrain growled, shaking his hands in anger.

"Not now ya dumb gits! Alroight, lissen gud. Da Powa Klaw got all of da propa kit fer da inshtulashun. But, wiffout a painboy, dis gunna be ard." he said, before he cackled.

"And darn roight bluhdy." He added on, before looking at Klaus.

"Humie, I need ya ta cut off da arm at da bony fing in da middle of dat arm, ya hear?" Mista Nailbrain ordered, to which Klaus nodded, taking out his glowy sword, activating the power field. Clea looked at the blade intently, before looking back at Klaus, who's gasmask hided any facial emotion.

"Clea. I gunna need ya ta hold his arm steady, alroight? If da Kapn wakes up ta see ya put it da wrong zoggin way, well… kant say fings will go gud fur ya." He said before looking at Klaus.

"Alright humie. Get ta kuttin." Mista Nailbrain said. Klaus came over to the opposite side of the ork, and held up his power sword. He swung. The Blade slashed through Bluddflagg's forearm, and the ork howled, though he was still incapacitated. The Power Sword cauterised the wound with no difficulty, as Klaus retracted his blade, deactivating the power field.

"Clea, kum ova ere. Roight, heres wut i'm gunna need ya ta do. I need ya to pry da wound open, so I can shtick sum of dese woires roight in." Mista Nailbrain ordered. Clea sighed, as she dug her fingers into Bluddflaggs slowly growing stump, prying it open. Thick red ichor began to pump out. Mista Nailbrain snatched the Powa Klaw, as he took out his tool kit with his other hand.

"Clea. Wrench." He ordered. Clea fumbled around in his tool kit, before pulling out the assigned tool. He snatched it, as he began to work on inserting the wires to Bluddflaggs nervous system.

"Rivet gun." He ordered. Clea grabbed the RIvet Gun, handing it to him. He began to bolt the metal plates at the end of the Powa Klaw together, in preparation for screwing it into Bluddflagg's stump of an arm.

"Scroo Droiva." He ordered. Clea handed him the screw driver, as he began to fiddle with the screws within the plating.

"Tape." He ordered. Clea seemed confused, as she took out what she assumed to be tape. Mista Nailbrain snarled, as she had given him a gubbin. The stupid pasty git! Now was not the time for a gubbin!

"I DUN NEED DA GUBBIN! TAPE!" He screeched, octaves higher than a normal orks voice should go. Klaus winced at his overly high voice, as Clea gave him what appeared to be tape. Mista Nailbrain was somewhat pleased that she had given him the roll of thick tape. He spat at the piece of tape was ripping off, as he stuck it on the end of the Powa Klaw.

"Welda." He said, as he slipped the welda mask on. She handed him the welda, and Clea looked away, learning from her previous mistakes. He grinned, as he powered up the welda. Like a dying sun, it let a glow so severe that even he had to squint to see what was happening. He began to fuse the rips shut, the metal of the powa klaw melting onto Bluddflagg's thick skin, fusing together to keep him shut. He powered off the welda, throwing it behind his back, hearing the satisfying clunk of metal as it landed in his toolbox. Just for extra measurement, he took another wad of tape, and began to wrap it around the arm, sealing any fissures shut. He took the Rivet Gun, and began to drill more Rivets into the metal, trying to tighten it as hard as possible. He wiped his forehead of sweat. This was a risky gamble. Without the skill of a Painboy to make sure it actually stuck on properly, there was a risk that it could simply fall off when Bluddflagg woke up. Bluddflagg had named the Klaw Skull Crusha, and his skull would be first if the Powa Klaw wasn't working.

"Alroight. Dis shuld wurk, but weze gunna ave ta wait till mornin. Fur da skin ta heal… yoo know." He explained, before realising that Klaus had already left. Clea huffed, looking at Bluddflagg.

"I don't even know how you manage to do these things." She said, as she turned, and walked away, her black cloak fluttering in the moonlight. Mista Nailbrain sighed, as he gathered up his tool kit, and returned to the fire. He spared his kaptain one more glance, before he shook his head, walking away. Needed more nails.

Review Time

King Rocket: I feel that the Legion is one of the less appreciated of the space marine chapters, even though they are the most badass (Partially because of their identity crisis)

Alcatraz: Thanks! I got the bell ringing thing from Dead By Daylight :)

rc48177: Well Chaos sp- NO NO, I DIDNT MEAN IT! NANANHASAIHDIASJDKANWYATSDNASKDHASYUD

Epsilon Vindicare: Yep! Its all better now!

Guest: Angry Marines would come in a bathing tide of sheer anger, opening up cans of FUCK YOU in the general direction of the enemy.

LordGhostStriker: Also because I love that quote :)


	38. Chapter 38: Incursion

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH here!

Sorry for the short chapter, but I was visiting New York yesterday, and I was very pressed for time.

So anyways, hope you enjoy!

Klaus was silent as the group marched. According to the night elf, Thelinda, they were heading to a town called Auberdine, for travel to Darnassus. Lofn was all too happy to explain why they were going, which was something that he did not approve of. Though he did approve that she hid the real reason well enough, he didn't like that she had very little mental fortitude about these kinds of things. He would have to drill it into her that she could not be so open. Currently, she was twirling her golden force staff as she was walking with him. Even though technically, all of them were in one group, they had split up. Clea and the orks traveled as one, somehow. Bluddflagg was incredibly happy that his new power klaw was working, and snapped and nabbed at the air like a child. The Necron and Thelinda walked together, the Necron wearing thick robes that hid most of his disgusting xenos body. And of course, him and Lofn were stuck together. The orks acted as a buffer between them and the Necron, which was for the better.

"You're a bore, you know that right?" She said suddenly, catching him off guard.

"Pardon?" He said, slightly confused. She sighed, as if to make her point.

"I said you're boring. Don't you ever talk when it's not me asking you questions?" She said, twirling her locks of hair with one finger. The strange thing with Lofn, was that she rarely wore her helmet, unless in combat, or encountering strangers. It was something he would never understand. At the mention of the word 'helmet' he touched his hair respectively. Out of all things he got in that altar, he wished he had been given a new helmet, but he would be unfortunately, denied.

"I did not know that eldar were the kind of people to have small talk with." He said accusingly. She clenched the bridge of her nose with her two fingers, looking back at him with her soft brown eyes, slightly hardened.

"We're not. But you're being more quiet then the damn Necrontyr." She grumbled. Now that he thought about it, the group itself was awkwardly separated, due to grudges and racial discrimination. It was nothing he could control, of course. The orks were a stain on the galaxy, an unending green cancer that should be stamped out, and the Necrons were silent executioners, also trying to wipe out the galaxy, for a different reason though.

"So what would you have me do?" He replied, gazing back at her, sparing the orks from more death glares. "Have pleasant conversations of the weather, and sit down for tea?" He growled sarcastically. His quip flew over her head.  
"If you want." She said, smiling. He facepalmed, his hand smacking his gasmask. It let out a soft clang, as the mask was smacked against his skin, leaving an imprint. He regretted doing that, as the orks were currently sparing him a glance, before they continued to talk about making squig pies. She always had a way of twisting his words, and it was something that was steadily becoming infuriating. But then he realised that he still owed her. He hated that he made that type of gamble. He didn't want to give her shit, but he wanted at least part of his sanity intact for the next year. He would let her have it, for his sake. At least, that was what he told himself. He grunted, looking away, as they continued to walk down the path.

"I don't see why you bug any of the others." He grumbled, even though he knew the truth. He knew of the ancient hatred between the eldar and the necrons, and they both knew that they would stay away from the orks. Simply for they were orks.

"You know." She said, her smile disappearing.

"Touchy subject?" He inquired, and she nodded. He wisely decided not to bring it up again. They were quiet, the only sounds being the quiet hooting of the orks, the variety of sounds of boots and shoes touching the ground, and the metal clicking of the Necrons joints, pushing together.

"See? Told you." Lofn pointed out. Klaus smirked slightly, glancing back at her.

"Honest question. Do you think I care?" He retorted. She stuck out her tongue, before looking away. Feeling satisfied of holding her back for now, he took a deep breath, as he continued to march. They had been doing it for nearly three days now, walking for ten hours, then resting for the night, before walking again. However between his endurance, the tireless necron, Clea, who sat on Bluddflagg's shoulder, somehow not getting impaled or snagged by the variety of spikes jutting out from his armor, and the seemingly well trained Thelinda, it certainly wasn't a problem.

"You know what I want to do? Sit down, enjoy a cup of recaf, and wash my damn feet." He mumbled, not aware that Lofn had picked it up. It looked like tumors had grown on his feet due to the variety of blisters that had festered on his feet, and the socks over them were black, possibly to filth. He was suffering from trench foot, and he desperately needed to cleanse himself of filth. Of course, Hygiene was never really a concern for him, but now it was something he was slowly becoming aware of. It was strange to be sure. Thinking for himself instead of his peers was certainly something he had never done. Self preservation was something he had never thought about.

"Let's do it then. Just you and me, alone for a day. We can sit down, and relax." Lofn suggested, who was still playing with her hair. Klaus snorted. Just what was she implying? He thought about it for a moment, before mentally shrugged. He would not necessarily lose anything, and the further away from the orks and necron he was, the better. He certainly was interested to see what damage the gilded bolter could do.

"Very well. But I expect something good to drink." He replied, ignoring the surprised look on her face, which was quickly replaced with giddy excitement. Crazy witch.

/

Nebetaruk looked at the Tesseract Labyrinth, which he held in his hand. Such a potent artifact was certainly a surprise. He did not even expect for the human to miraculously find any necron artifacts to begin with. Necrons could be associated with extreme… clinginess… when it came to personal weapons and artifacts. It was a sign that perhaps, some could one day return to being in the flesh. Being mortal again. It was an interesting thought certainly. Feeling things that just weren't pain. Emotions. Feelings. He had not felt such things for countless millenia. His dim green eyes went back to the Tesseract Labyrinth. The Tesseract Labyrinth was a small green cube, with swirls of energy floating around its glossy surface. Of course, as all Necron artifacts were, insanely complex. The Labyrinth itself was a physical manifestation of a pocket dimension. Anyone trapped within the cube could never escape, doomed to live the rest of their pitiful lives within the confines of the inter dimensional prison. He had already trapped the shard within the tesseract tomb, and he could hear its inhuman howls within, that chilled him to his core. Slipping the cube within his robes, he glanced at the warscythe in his hand. Yet another peculiar thing that he had found. Warscythes were integral parts of Necron culture, as Warscythes were recreations of weapons long lost to them ever since their great slumber. Pride was something that burned within Necrons that were still capable in feeling it. He looked the blade over. It was certainly familiar, but he could not put a name on it. Another thing that he could not remember. He cursed how badly damaged his memory storages were. It was nearly situational of how this had happened. Like someone was pulling at the strings of his own fate, cursing and damning him for actions he could no longer remember. He flexed his fingers, feeling the metal within click and whirr, as the joints closed, making a balled fist. He would do many things to retain his memory, and he would strive to achieve it.

"Are you alright?" Thelinda said with a hushed voice, cringing slightly as the orks roughly ten feet away started to sing, a garbled string of vowels and words flying out of their mouths like birds.

"I was merely thinking." He replied in an equally quiet voice, though it was still quite low to begin with.

"Of what?" She asked. This earned her a suspicious glare from Nebetaruk. She was certainly curious. However, curiosity would one day, be the death of her. Sometimes, it was better not to know things. He decided to answer her question. It wouldn't hurt.

"I wonder what it would be like to be a mortal being once again. Such a thing is nearly impossible, but…" He said, trailing off.

"Go on…" She mumbled, clearly interested. Nebetaruk thought about his words very carefully.

"It would certainly be interesting to feel things again,ones that are not . However, these are dreams." He said, clicking his warscythe to the ground, the jet black blade glittering in the sunlight, the green field of energy swirling around it intensified, swirling around like a hurricane.

"You never know. There are many things that magic could do." Thelinda said, before looking away, focusing on guiding the group through the winding roads of Darkshore. This let him to his own thoughts. Magic. Necrons hated psykers, and it wasn't a secret. They had gone through great stretches to deal with psykers, as they were some of the only forces that could really damage him. It was why the eldar farseer had done so much damage to him. He looked back at the Tesseract Labyrinth within his hand, feeling the growing hatred within the cube, directed at him. Did the C'tan really think he would let the damn thing be free? He sighed, looking up, feeling rain began to patter against his exposed face. He stowed away the cube, and pulled his hood up, as a light drizzle began to assault him. Dark clouds, with a small amount of red within, swirled the skies. The others noticed this too, slowly moving their pace, looking at the dark grey and red clouds. Something was amiss, that much was clear. But something deep within him told him that something was very wrong. He clutched the warscythe tighter, as he continued to march.

/

Bluddflagg flexed Skull Crusha, the prongs of his new Powa Klaw, and to an extent, his new limb, moving with his motions. Clea, who sat on his shoulder, watched intently as he flexed the Powa Klaw, before noticing that it was beginning to rain. He adjusted his hat with his freehand, his Kustom Shoota now in his squig hide sheathe. He no longer wanted or needed his Trusty Kutlass, giving it up for the much more favorable Powa Klaw. The titanium and steel infused skrappy blades greeted him as he gave it another look over. The base of the klaw was a deep crimson, with small splotches of a navy blue around the base. Thick power lines were interlaced between the blades and the klaw itself. He would love to try it out on something. Daemons, Squisy Bugs, Bloo gits… anything really. However, the sight that greeted him was not the one he imagined, when he and the krew came over the horizon of Auberdine. It was full with purple twigs, similar to their guide. Large amounts of boats were swarming the docks, with more to come. Bluddflagg squinted, seeing a small island in the distance, with interlocking colors of red, green, and black.

"Oi twig. Dis place always loike dis?" He asked, getting the attention of Thelinda, who shook her head furiously.

"No, not at all! Something must be wrong. Very, very wrong." She mumbled, as she started going in a full sprint. Bluddflagg grinned. When something was wrong, there was something to kill.

"Afta em!" He cried out, pointing his Powa Klaw at the running elf. Spookums and Mista Nailbrain didn't need any other words, as they began to jog after off. Klaus sighed, as he began to jog with Lofn, who had donned on her Ghost Helm. The Necron slammed his Warscythe into the ground, and teleported. Bluddflagg began to go into a full sprint, his short stubby legs propelling him forward. Clea held onto his neck and yelped at the surprising speed he was capable of, as he began to barrel down the hill they were on, heading into town. He soon grouped up with rest of them, who had made a tight ball. Many of the purple elves had surrounded them, looking at them in a sheer combination of horror, disgust, and awe. He could imagine the looks on their faces. A eight foot tall ork, with the width of a table, a massive klaw in one hand, with a pasty git on his shoulder, a bow drawn out, barbed arrows in her hand, ready to be drawn. A Metal Boy with a large glowing staff in one hand, a small cube of green in the other. A Deff Korp boy with a flashy shoota in both hands, scanning the crowd. A twig with a glowing golden staff in one of her hands, the other at her side, looking over the crowd. Two orks with their shootas drawn, and with fingers on the triggas, getting ready for them to be pulled.

"Lord of Metal? I did not expect you to be here…" A voice said, and the crowd parted, allowing one with a stunnin white gown came through, a bow in one hand. She looked over each and everyone of the group, before her white eyes settled on the necron.

"High Priestess Tyrande." It said, nodding its head, before turning to the rest of them.

"Put your weapons down. Now." It growled. Bluddflagg groaned, clasping the prongs shut. The sound of weapons being lowered (and disappointed groans and growls from the orks.) filled the air.

"I see you have found your… friends…" Tyrande said, as she looked over them again. Her eyes lasted exactly three seconds on each and every one of them, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Yes… 'friends'..." It said, with something hinting humor, before it looked over the crowd in front of them.

"Why are there so many kaldorei here?" It asked. This was a very good question. Their was at least several hundred of them in the crowd, and more were streaming in.

"Something has happened in Darnassus. Wild fires began to overtake the city. Some have been driven mad, while others have reported strange creatures that warp reality around them. We… we are not sure what they are…" She admitted.

"But I do." A voice said. Several hundred pairs of eyes looked at the source of the voice. It was the human, flashy shoota still in hand, the gasmask hiding any facial expressions. But the voice was filled with loathing, and hatred.

"Daemons. Chaos. Chaos has taken your capital. Those who remain there are no longer people. They are something far worse." Klaus said, as he pointed at the island in the distance.

"If you want your capital back, it must be purged. All life there, must be purged. All symbols, must be destroyed. All bodies, must be burned. The taint must be stopped." He growled, as he raised his bolter, though still keeping it pointed at the ground.

"And we shall go." He said, gesturing to the rest of the group. Bluddflagg grinned wildly, flexing his Powa Klaw. Finally, something to kill!

"I cannot allow my people to suffer like that!" Tyrande said, her voice still calm, though the small tinges of anger could be found in her voice.

"If the kaldorei had been corrupted by the ruinous powers, then there's nothing we can do to save them. There's only one way to save them from their… their madness." Lofn said sadly, yet truthfully. Bluddflagg could agree. Once someone was corrupted by chaos, nothing could be done. It was unfortunate, as chaos slaves were very anti productive on the krooza. He knew firsthand that they weren't good at doing work, so it was best to kill them.

"They speak the truth. It is very hard to understand and believe, but trust me. They will far worse if we allow them to linger." The Necron said. Her eyes looked at him. She was desperate he realised. Desperate to find proof that her people could be saved.

"Dose daemons iz nasty fings. I wuld kill em as quik." He suggested.

"I… I… I can't just…" She mumbled. Klaus came forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. Bluddflagg grunted in surprise. He certainly did not anticipate that to happen.

"You won't have to." Klaus replied, before looking straight at her, his black, skull faced gasmask looking right at her.

"Is their any mode of transportation we could use?" He asked. She looked at him with a gaze of fury.

"I thank you for what you are doing. But please… try to save those you can…" She asked. He nodded.

"Very well. I shall send a small contingent of sentinels to join you, while we still try to organize our military. Keep your promise, and I shall keep mine." She said, looking back at the Necron, who merely nodded.

"We shall." He grumbled.

Review Time

King Rocket: I figured that a space marine who shot fire, could teleport, and basically was indestructible, could kind of be a bit over powered... but considering an eldar farseer, a trio of orks, and a Necron lord... well...

RedRat8: Although more equipped then the average Grenadier, he's still a human, and as so, he will still have his faults.

Tenash: Probably doing something that we would figure out later...


	39. Chapter 39: Darnassus Burns

**Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH here!**

 **Nearly at forty chapters, and I have to say, thanks for supporting me through all of this!**

 **Anyways, hope you enjoy!**

 **/**

Nebetaruk looked at the map with a concentrated glare. Assembled around the table was Tyrande, and a Draenei, known as Prophet Velen. Prophet Velen was a certainly interesting character. A thick white beard came from his chins, floating purple gemstones floating around him. Strange headgear resulted in a bright flare of white over his grey head, his pure white eyes looking at the map in front of them. A staff was in one hand, a golden staff with traces of white metal within. A psyker if he ever saw one. Klaus was also here, but for a different reason. He knew the most of the Ruinous Powers (out of all of them really) so he acted like a source of intel. It had been a day since they had arrived, and now, the three were working on a plan to recapture the capital. It was certainly difficult though. They had barely any intel whatsoever, and none of them had experience fighting the ruinous powers, rather than Klaus, the orks, and maybe Lofn.

"Our rangers suggest that the source of the 'ruinous powers' are emanating from within the tradesman terrace. However, they could have fortified Rut'theran village, located here." Tyrande said, pointing to the village outside of the massive so called world tree. Nebetaruk scratched his metal chin, focusing back on the map. Darnassus was a rather small town, though the world tree certainly proved to be a difficult obstacle. While he was thinking, Klaus put his two scarabs in.

"The cult will most likely consist of the poor, and the mentally weak. I don't expect the cultists to have heavy weaponry, but they have summoned daemons, according to my questioning." Klaus said, waving his notebook in the air.

"As far as I know, Daemons cannot last long within the mortal realm, but they are very dangerous while they live." Klaus said, who was currently standing at attention, his arms and legs locked firm together. Certainly had quite a lot of discipline, something he could respect.

"And what could we expect from these… daemons?" Velen asked, his old and creaky voice filled with power and authority. Klaus glanced at the prophet, before looking back at the map.

"It depends." He said, before he made a strange symbol over his heart, as he continued to speak.

"Bloodletters are daemons of Khorne. They are red, hunchback looking creatures. They are close combat specialists, and will try to slaughter any who get into range. Sorcery and Witchcraft would work well against them." He said, allowing the information to absorb, before continuing.

"Daemonettes are daemons of Slaanesh. They are pink, alluring creatures. They are also close combat specialists, though not as powerful. That is not the worst part of them though. They will try to seduce, and allure those who do not have mental fortitude. Those who succumb will be killed without mercy." He said, pausing yet again, before continuing.

"Horrors are daemons of Tzeentch. They are also pink, but they are ever shifting blobs of flesh, which cannot even be considered humanoid. They are powerful spellcasters, but they cannot fight in melee for their non existent life." He continued, before he kept going.

"Nurglings are the daemons of Nurgle. They are small, green creatures. Though not deadly in combat, they are filled with a host of diseases and contagions. Touching one will result in death. Keep far away from them." He finished, before taking a step back. Nebetaruk absorbed the information.

"The daemons have their own weaknesses. The initial strikeforce must be varied and different. Melee fighters, Ranged archers, Mages and Druids…" Tyrande concluded, and Klaus nodded.

"In a way. We will need a way to meet them in melee combat." Klaus said. Nebetaruk could not help but agree. If they had nothing to act as a buffer between the daemons, they would simply be throwing meat into the grinder without a way to stop it.

"The orks are a worthy selection, are they not?" Nebetaruk suggested. Klaus nodded.

"They will suffice." Klaus replied.

"You cannot trust orcs." Valen said firmly. To this, Klaus only chuckled.

"A xeno, telling me who to trust?" He said, before he giggled again, the golden bolter on his shoulder glinting menacingly in the sunlight that was streaming in from one of the windows in the room.

"I have a plan…" Tyrande announced, before she began to delve deep into her explanation.

/

" **WWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!** " Bluddflagg roared, jumping off of the boat, smashing into the dirt. Night elf Cultists and daemons charged him, fiery blood letters teleporting into range. He smashed one with his Powa Klaw, smashing it into fiery smithereens, while unloading a whole clip of ammo into another group of cultists, ripping them to pieces. Mista Nailbrain teleported right beside him, unloading with his new Kustom Shoota. A golden stream of lead poured out from the barrel, cutting down daemons and cultists that were quickly closing in.

"Burn!" Mista Nailbrain cackled, as the burna attachment on the shoota went to life. Nurglings squealed, as the flames consumed their bodies, making them writhe and scream. Cultists yelped, as the burning fuel burned the flesh from their faces, making it melt into piles of purple goo. Intermixed with the night elf cultists were humans and squats, though they died too quick for him to pay too much attention too. The plan was simple. Send the orks, and then send the rest of the landing party to clean up the mess. Bluddflagg didn't notice the ingenuity that the orks were expendable, but he didn't even care. All he cared that he was killing. The thought stayed as he squeezed the life out of a cultist in his klaw, crushing the body beyond recovery. He battered the cultist against the floor, before flinging it. A cacophony of explosions was heard nearby, as Spookums threw a handful of stikkbombs.

"Alright! Get in there!" A voice said behind him, as night elves leaped out of their boats, only to pause. The once beautiful village was in ruins. The buildings were burned and leveled, roots of the massive world tree scarred with burns from fires and strange, sinister runes. Tall, sinister shrines poked out of the ground, a downright evil feeling emanating from the shrines. One of the figures in the small party came forward, shooting at the shrines with a powerful shoota. The shrines collapsed, as explosives wracked against the shrines, destroying them.

"Destroy the tainted scum. Do not pause." Klaus growled, firing his boomstick. Crazed inhabitants were flung back, fist sized holes in their bodies. Each shot was calculated, and most of them hit, though a few missed. The night elves shook themselves out of their confusion and attacked, as more chaos forces began to trickle out from the road leading to the rest of the city. Bluddflagg snarled, as a daemonette slipped underneath him, stabbing its pincer into his chest. He snarled, as he grabbed the daemonette by the chest, and squeezed. It let out a howl of pain, as he utterly crushed its mortal form, before it trickled away in his hands.

"Yeesh. Dats nastee." He mumbled to himself, wiping his hand on his greatcoat, as with the other hand, he absent mindedly cut down a group of daemons without even looking. He was surprised of how easy this was. Daemons were normally hard to kill, but this was easy. Too easy. Bluddflagg snatched his Kustom Shoota, which had fallen out of his hand, and let out another stream of bullets. A Bloodletter howled, as it closed the distance to him, swiping with its fiery blade, leaving a trail of orange and yellow flame in the air. Bluddflagg deflected the blows, his Powa Klaw snarling at him, as deep furrows were made in the metal by the flaming sword. Bluddflagg snarled, as he snatched the Bloodletter, ripping it into pieces within his gauntlet in his anger.

"Dats annuva forr points!" Bluddflagg announced, as he threw the rapidly dissolving pieces of Bloodletter away, as he charged into melee again. He smashed into a group of chaos forces, sending them flying and swiped in a bloodthirsty frenzy, ripping daemons and cultists apart with no difficulty. He grimaced, as large wounds began to open up, recently healed scars reopening. A puddle of gore, both of his own and others, was at his feet, as he continued to fight and kill. The daemon trapped in his freehand snarled at him, before its head exploded in a wash of ethereal gore. Bluddflagg grunted in surprise, turning his own eye to the location of the booming noise of gunfire. Klaus fired at the daemons that had surrounded him, bringing down each one with concentrated vollies. Lofn joined him, sending out bolts of energy. Several of the daemons howled, as they charged the pair. Bluddflagg was rather surprised that not a single shot had hit him. He thought that at least one would make it through, and then they would claim for it to be an 'accident'.

"Fanks oomie!" He grinned, as he ripped a cultist open, a tidal wave of gore splashing onto his now red coat. The humie did not say anything, as he continued to pour in shots at the groups of daemons and cultists. Lofn stood next to him, shooting out bolts of psychic energy, trapping the daemons and cultists in webs of wraithbone. They howled, as Klaus shot them once, ending their cries, before the wraithbone receded back through the air. Bluddflagg waded back into the slaughter once more, ripping through the daemons without fear. He grinned, as he snatched a cultist with his powa klaw, his hand wrapping around its head. It squealed, as he yanked hard, ripping the body in half. He hooted, before throwing the body away, seeing it sail right at Spookums, who was flung back. Bluddflagg grinned evilly, as he fired more boolets from the Kustom Shoota, before the clip emptied out. He slapped in a new clip, and waded into melee. He was having the time of his life, and nothing would stop him.

/

Klaus let out bolt after bolt. A small pile of boltshells was beginning to form at his feet, as he continued to riddle the swarm of cultists and daemons that was coming down from the roads. A thin cloud of smoke began to obscure his vision, as he and Lofn stood side by side, attacking the daemons. A large mob was forming around Bluddflagg. He was surrounded, and would be cut down if he did not receive aid. The stupid ork. Why would you charge into a tide of daemons and cultists? By himself, no less. Klaus gave a prayer to the emperor, as he turned his gilded bolter to the foe. He fired precise snapshots, the recoil of the bolter smashing against his shoulder. Of course, the boltgun was strong, and so was its ammunitions. Each bolt smashed into the mob of daemons. A bloodletter let out an unholy roar of anger as its chest was blown apart, warp stuff and flame burning at the hole in its chest. It turned to him, before it was snatched by a certain warboss, and crushed to death. A cultist yelped, as its arm decided to no longer exist, before its head decided to join them. The cultists were of varying races, but this mattered little. If they served the ruinous powers, he didn't care if they had family, had children, or were damn saints. If they served the ruinous powers, he would show them how he dealt with them. One bolt to the head, to end their existence.

"Lofn! Concentrate fire!" He snarled. Lofn turned, the blood red eye pieces of her ghosthelm, looking at him, before where he was shooting. She let out bolts of energy, which were guided by her force staff.

"Fanks oomie!" He heard Bluddflagg roar at him, but he ignored him, as he reloaded his bolter, snatching a clip from his sack, and gently putting it in the bolter, pulling back the firing pin. The daemons now noticed the barrage of psychic bolts and bolt shells, and howled, as they charged them. He fired off round after round at the twelve daemons and cultists that came after them, before he slung the boltgun on his shoulder, drawing his power saber. He would put these so called incantations to the test, as the last four closed the distance. He swung his power saber, making a strike on a horror. It squealed, as a holy yellow fire consumed its body. It let out a roar of rage and pain, one that hurt his ears, as the horror combusted in yellow flame, resulting in an explosion. Strangely, the force of the explosion did not affect him or Lofn, but sent the other daemons and cultists flying. He looked at the power saber. Damn. They did some work on this.

"Hmph." he grunted in appreciation, as a cultist came at him, a dagger in its hands. Time seemed to slow, as strangely, he could see the attack coming before it came. If he moved to the side, he would be able to dodge the attack. He noticed that a Bloodletter had teleported behind him, and had its fiery blade ready to decapitate him. The air was cold too. Witchcraft no doubt, perhaps on Lofn's side of things. He ducked, and rolled, as the Bloodletter's blade cleaved the cultists head in two. The body collapsed, its exposed tongue lolling on the bloody mud. The Blood Letter snarled, before it roared in anger, as Lofn had ensnared it in wraithbone. Klaus watched with morbid fascination as the daemon was wrapped in white webbing like wraithbone, physical warp stuff itself. It let out a roar of pain, as the wraithbone suffocated the Bloodletter.

"No one. Touches. Him." Lofn snarled from her helmet, as she swung the force staff, decapitating the Blood Letter. It let out one last scream of anger, before it faded away in red flame. Lofn looked at him, and he could practically see her blushing underneath her helmet.

"Um..." She mumbled. Klaus shoved her to the side, bisecting a daemonette who was aiming right for her neck. Lofn screeched at him, until seeing the body of the daemonette collapse by her, as it quickly burned away.

"Thanks." She said finally, as he offered her a hand, and she snatched it. He heaved, bringing her up. Klaus entered a combat stance, seeing more incoming.

"Thank me by killing these chaotic scum." Klaus replied back, as he parried a blow from a crazed cultist, before he kicked out with his prosthetic leg, snapping its hip bone. The cultist collapsed, screaming in pain. Klaus looked at it in the eyes. It was a child, perhaps in her teens. Her white eyes were driven red by madness and insanity. Sigils were carved in her arms and bosom. She was wearing rather revealing clothes, though it still covered up the important parts. He wondered what this girl's life was like, before it was forfeit to the chaotic hand to the dark gods. They had changed her into… into this. He couldn't see anymore of her, as the cultists head exploded, a bolt of psychic energy ending her life. He could hear an ethereal scream, one that chilled him, as her soul was consumed. He shook himself out of it, as he looked around, as more cultists began to run at him.

He thought he heard Lofn say 'Sorry, but he's mine.' but he wasn't too sure himself. Lofn twirled around, facing the threat, before she paused. The fight was quickly ending. They had won, a small battle for the large siege to come. The village was completely razed, and their were many corpses. Of course, the daemons burned up when they died, ready to face punishment from their insidious masters. However, both cultist and normal elf had died, spilt blood to reclaim their home. Klaus had to give credit where it was due, they were certainly determined. They did not even know the enemy they were facing, and still fought them without a second thought. Though he could imagine they would share grief that the pitiful cultists were once family and friend, he did not even share a tear for the loss of life.

"Disgusting scum." He mumbled, as he looked over the bodies of the cultists, giving them a firm kick. If they didn't move, he would leave them. For now. He would ask Mista Nailbrain to burn the bodies. Though his 'Burna' was not blessed, nor sanctioned by the ecclesiarchy, it was better than nothing. So far, he was impressed by the efficiency of the kaldorei. He had yet to find yet one living cultist. However, as he kicked the next body, a soft groan came from it. He flipped it over with his boot. The face of a human greeted him. Humans lived in a xeno city? Disgusting. He looked over the cultist in revulsion, very eager to plunge his blade within his chest. He was badly wounded, a large gash on his abdomen. Large gashes and scratch marks were found underneath his eyes, imprints of fingerprints on the flesh on his cheeks. The man's large grey beard was stained with blood. Klaus could see no marks of chaos on the man. A slave perhaps. Used for cannon fodder.

"Ple… Plea… Please… Help…" The man whispered, his voice barely a whisper. Klaus did not flinch, as he plunged the power saber within the man's heart. He did not shed a tear as the man screamed, as holy fire consumed his body, leaving only ashes. He ripped his blade out of the ground, shaking it, before deactivating the power field, putting it back in its scabbard, taking out his bolter. He took out the clip, examining the clip, before sliding it back in.

"Disgusting scum." Klaus muttered again, leaving the pile of ashes where it was.

/

Lofn kneeled, trying to catch her breath. The Ghosthelm and staff certainly helped with using her psychic powers, but even then, she still had a limit. He huffed, rising up, twirling the force staff in her hand.

"Ooo hoo! Dat… dat… wuz fun… heh heh." Bluddflagg grinned, coming over. Lofn took a long look at the warboss. He was covered in wounds and scars, far more then she remembered. His armor had suffered a lot of damage, and his greatcoat was covered in blood and gore. Both his and others, she assumed. His underlings came over, though less marked.

"I assume you had your fill?" She asked kindly, regaining her composure. Bluddflagg chuckled heartily, putting a hand on his chest.

"Nah. Dat wuz merely a warmup." He grinned, turning back to the coast, squinting. More boats were sailing forward, and Lofn could see the black figure of the Necron on the most forward, pointing his warscythe straight at the village. Many had died, both allies and enemies. However, the capital city was large, and filled with perils she could not even think of. She had nearly died too, if it wasnt for Klaus. She had let her feelings take over, and it was what nearly killed her.

"Secure a perimeter! Round up the bodies, put them in a pile." Klaus ordered to the remnants of the night elf party that had accompanied them. They looked at each other, and shrugged, as they began to drag the bodies, and set them in bodies, while others began to secure the road, to prevent more from coming. Klaus then noticed that she was still trying to keep herself composed, and walked next to her, putting a hand on his shoulder. She glanced at the black gloved hand on her robes.

"Lofn, are you alright?" He asked, and she smiled, turning her head to him.

"I'm fine." She answered, as the trio of boats came closer to shore. A green pillar of energy appeared in front of the five, and they turned to face the Necron who had teleported in front of them. It was still wearing its strange robes, warscythe in hand. It looked over the scene of carnage behind them, before it's green eyes were locked on them.

"Judging that you are currently alive, and standing, I assume the operation was a success." The Necron said, before looking at Klaus.

"According to your information, I have asked High Priestess Tyrande to set up a blockade around the island. For now, we have contained the corruption. All we must do now is to destroy it." The Necron added on.

"It won't be easy. The pawns of chaos are not rid of so easily. Even after we destroy the warband here, the corruption will linger." Klaus pointed out.

"Ooo kares? Den we get ta kill em sum more!" Bluddflagg said enthusiastically, as Mista Nailbrain gave him a jug of green liquid. Bluddflagg took the jug, and swigged it down in one go. He wiped his mouth, belching, before handing the jug back to Mista Nailbrain. Lofn watched in awe as the orks regeneration sped up to ridiculous speeds, the massive cuts and wounds stitching themselves back together in front of her. But that wasn't all. Bluddflagg's muscles swelled in front of them, though they were not bulging. Bluddflagg looked over the changes in his body and only grinned, flexing his arms. He noticed her gaze, and grinned.

"Iz foightin jooze." He explained, though that didn't do much to sate her curiosity. She focused back into the conversation the Necron and Klaus were having.

"Regardless, we cannot deny that the taint is here. I would suggest burning the island to the ground, and to rebuild." Klaus admitted. The Necron shook his head.

"Though the most efficient option, it is not one we cannot be allowed to take." The Necron grumbled. Klaus eased out of his combat stance, though his hands were still on the bolter, finger on the trigger.

"Nevertheless, the kaldorei military is still being reassembled. We will have to wait until morning for reinforcements to arrive, and even so, we can expect an enemy counter attack soon enough." The Necron announced, amplifying his voice so it could be carried over the remains of the ruined village.

"We shall make camp, though we will need sentinels to make sure that we are not ambushed." Lofn suggested, getting the glances of over fifty assembled warriors, and psykers.

"I volunteer." Klaus said, but Lofn shook her head.

"No. You need rest more than anyone else." She snapped, surprised by her own hostility. Klaus snorted, though he kept his complaints to himself.

"This shall be arranged later. For now, be on guard." The Necron ordered, as Klaus came over to Mista Nailbrain, whispering in his raggedy ear, pointing at the pile of corpses that had formed. Mista Nailbrain nodded, grinning, as the flame on his Burna ignited, and walked over to the corpses. He pulled down the mask, and he pointed the weapon at the pile. Lofn turned away, not wanting to see the ork burn the corpses of those poor souls. She heard the hoot of laughter coming from the room, and sound of the burna engulfing the pile of corpses. She tried to push it out of her head, but she couldn't. She was about to leave, when she felt something touch her, and she glanced at who did it. Klaus put his arm on her shoulder. She was about to ask what he was doing, when he spoke first.

"It is the best thing to do. They can harm no one any longer." Klaus said, trying to comfort her. She sighed. She knew it was true, but she still couldn't fathom why chaos was so… so evil.

"Why are they so… evil?" She asked quietly, though she did not expect an answer.

"We are all evil, sinister bastards. We have all done things that can no longer call us pure, and innocent, try as we might. I have killed many. Guilty. Innocent. But I do not fear my actions, because I know what I do is right. The difference between us and them, is that they do not try to tell themselves what they do is justified..." He whispered, as he turned her around to see the blazing pillar of corpses. It had ignited like a wildfire, orange and red hot flame consuming the bodies. She looked away, but Klaus put a finger underneath her chin, tilting her head to the fire.

"They do not question what is right. That what they do is for the better of those whom they care about. They only care about one thing now. And that is to please their insidious masters…" He muttered, before he looked her right in the eyes. Their eye lenses stared at each other's soul. His voice was soft, and gentle, but she now knew what he truly was, deep inside.

"Never forget this. When you do something you cannot understand… cannot fathom… ask yourself one thing. Is it right?" He mumbled, before he patted her on the shoulder. He nodded his pointed gasmask at her, and left her. Lofn looked at the blazing pillar, as Mista Nailbrain ran over, water in his hands, trying to extinguish the fire. She went over to help the mek, but Klaus's words never left her.

Review Time

rc48177: WAAAGH! All of the time!

King Rocket: Not necessarily. Though exterminatus is usually the best option, some cities or planets can be saved from chaotic corruption, though it takes alot of effort. Though corruption may slip out, it can be pursued. And with the World Tree, they wont be able to get much from it. The Second World Tree was corrupted since it was planted, hence why the Kaldorei are still not immortal.

Guest: Necrons are certainly powerful, but they are still vulnerable to warp stuff and magic. And Legion of the Damned space marines are a bit different from normal Space Marines. Essentially a Ghost Rider Space Marine.

Guest: All of this is for me to know, and for you to find out :)

RedRat8: Such conditions can certainly change a person.


	40. Chapter 40: Grudges

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

Forty Chapters, yay.

Due to the new school year starting, i can no longer guarentee chapters coming out every other day.

I will try to upload them weekly.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Morning came, and with that, so did a fight, though not the kind of fight Klaus had expected.

"Oi ya git! Dats moine!" Bluddflagg snarled, pulling at the helmet that was still in Mista Nailbrains hands. Mista Nailbrain snarled back at him, pulling the fancy helmet that was now engulfed in sweaty green hands. Klaus could imagine the warriors shame, that his ornate helmet was now gone, being fought over by a couple of greenskins. Shameful indeed.

"Oi had it furst! Go zog yerself!" Mista Nailbrain screeched, yanking it back. Klaus snorted, watching the brawl happen before him. He knew that Bluddflagg was vastly stronger than his underling, but it seemed that Bluddflagg wanted the helmet without bloodshed, something that screamed un orky. He shook his head in exasperation. Stupid orks. Luckily, they had not been ambushed during the night, which was certainly strange. Of course, Klaus did not sleep, and kept watch over the others, along with several other volunteers. It was boring, but that was good. If it was boring, then nothing was happening. He cracked his knuckles, as he took out his bolter. He looked at the bolter in his hands. It proved effective in his hands, and he was certainly happy about it. However, he wondered if something within the bolter was helping him. Accuracy with bolt weapons were hard. The Projectiles did not travel nearly as fast as las bolts, and the recoil was absurd, though he was getting used to it. But his accuracy with this weapon was strange. He forgot about the thought, as he put another clip of bolt rounds into the gun. He rose up from his impromptu seat, as the Necron began to address himself in front of the others. It appeared that for now, the Necron was the so called leader of the warband. And though he hated that he was taking orders from a xeno, a Necron no less, something inside him just accepted it. He couldn't find out what was making him do it. He scratched the back of his head. He noticed that a certain spot at the back of his head, around the left side, spiked in itchiness. Every Time, in the same, exact, spot. It was driving him insane, as he could never sate it. He scratched it idly, as the Necron cleared his throat, a thick, metallic screech rumbling from his empty throat.

"Listen, and Listen well. Additional forces are on their way. However, we have reason to expect a counter attack." The Necron began, his cold, metal voice the only sound they could hear. It was eerie. With such wildlife around, he would suspect to hear birds chirping, or something like that. But instead, it was dead quiet. Not even the sound of the waves nearby could pierce the sound of the silence. It felt like a trap, but he knew better. Right now wasn't such an ample time for an ambush. Many

"However, we currently lack information of what exactly is happening within the capital. Therefore, I will organize a scouting team to investigate." The Necron ordered, pacing around the group that had formed around him. His green eyes scanned each and every warrior in presence, slowly scanning up and down, before moving to the next person. After doing this to nearly everyone, he stepped back, one hand on his warscythe, the other locked at his side.

"Klaus. Spookums. Step forward." The Necron said aloud. Spookums muttered something underneath his breath, as they stepped out of the ring that surrounded the Necron. The Necron looked at them for several seconds, before nodding.

"I expect both of you to perform your task with excellence." The Necron said aloud. Spookums scratched his head.

"Uhh… Wot weze doin?" He asked. The Necron glared at him, before continuing.

"I want you to scout out the capitol. Check on what the oppostition are doing. Patrol routes. Enemy Leadership. Weapon stores. Shrines. . You are no Deathmarks, but if you find an enemy leader…" The Necron said, before leaning in close to the two of them.

"End them." he finished. Spookums grinned, looking at Klaus, who merely sighed, putting his bolter on his shoulder. Great. Working with an ork. Wonderful. He wished he had a hand grenade with him, though he knew that the ork carried many bombs with him. If only he could light one while he wasn't looking.

"Klaus." The Necron said. Klaus shook himself out of it, looking at the Necron.

"I know your relations with the greenskins are… shaky, to summarize." It began, before its malevolent green orbs glared at him. He merely snorted, crossing his arms.

"Intimidation won't work on me 'cron. Speak your mind and leave." He grunted. The Necron nodded.

"You remind me of a warrior. Silent. Obedient." It pointed out. He narrowed his eyes.

"I am anything but obedient, to you." He growled. The Necron chuckled, a metallic rasping coming from its throat.

"Perhaps not. You seem rather obedient to your partner, Lofn." It pointed out. He cracked his knuckles.

"I am no eldar's plaything. I merely act 'nice' to her, so she can leave me alone about my 'social skills.' " Klaus growled.

"You keep telling yourself that. Your ignorance to what she is doing is certainly amusing." It chuckled. Klaus paused. What did he mean by that?

"Regardless, I know your relationship with… any xeno really is shaky, but you must learn to put these grudges aside to benefit for the greater good. I am putting you on this mission with Spookums, as to end your prejduice." It explained. Klaus narrowed his eyes.

"Our racism is well justified. Humanity for ages has been at the whipping post of traitors, xenos, and mutants. Many billions have died because of their actions. The Age of Strife, for example. No matter what you do to me, I can assure you, I will never forget the atrocities all xenos have done." He snarled. The Necron merely nodded.

"That is True. But, can you explain what you have done lately?" The Necron said cryptically, before it walked away. Klaus stumbled for words, but only two arose. I can't.

/

Spookums rubbed his face in complete frustration. The humie was a good shot, and he had seen proof of that. However, by Mork, he did not know how to sneak around. They had been sneaking around the city for a good three or four hours, and they had learned some information, though not much. They knew nothing of the enemy leaders, or organization, only that the so called 'Tradesmen Terrace' and most of the 'Warriors Terrace' had been completely walled off, and barricaded. Klaus peeked his head over his shoulder, and Spookums growled, sparing Klaus a fiery glare.

"Get yer phat arse down…" He whispered, as he peered through the tree's foliage, spying the moving band of cultists underneath him. Their seemed to be patrols throughout the city, though loosely organized. That meant the commander of these cultists seemed to be at least half smart. Spookums squinted, looking at the ruined town. Many of the buildings had been razed, and smoke and smog covered the city, like a thin cloud. Spookums of course, was used to breathing smoke, and Klaus had his gasmask.

"I'm sorry, climbing trees isn't my speciality." Klaus mumbled through clenched teeth. Spookums gave him a death glare, looking back at the patrol. He was an awful kommando, and in reality, he wondered what the metal boy had been smoking to assign a purfessional kommando with a humie.

"Dey's headin sumwhere, and dey aint goin to da kamp…" Spookums noted, as the patrol was heading in the opposite direction of where the village was.

"They could be reinforcing a position somewhere else…" Klaus suggested. Spookums shook his head.

"Nah. Dey's movin with daemons too. Dey's headin for a foight." Spookums concluded. Satisfied with his work, he began to carefully move through the thick tree limbs. Also like a cloud, trees were everywhere, and most were decently covered. Strangely, very few trees had been burned from the fires around the capital. Klaus, who couldn't climb trees for shit, was pissed off that whenever Spookums had to move, Spookums would snag him by the scruff of the neck, like a kitten, and carried to where he was going. Spookums continued to move from tree to tree, and then stopped. Lowering Klaus onto a thick branch, Spookums reached into his bag, pulling out a pair of magnoculars. He poked at it for a few moments, before putting it to his eyes. He saw something that was rather surprising. In the distance, he could see kaldorei and other animals, and what looked like giant trees, fighting off cultists and daemons. They were fighting a losing battle, as the mass of daemons swarmed over a large, lion faced tree, cutting it to pieces.

"Are dose… gioant trees?" He asked in confusion, scratching his head. Klaus shrugged beside him, as Spookums handed the magnoculars to him. Klaus rubbed the grease off of the magnoculars, putting it to his mask, looking through the eye pieces.

"Trees and Animals have more willpower than living beings?" Klaus said, letting out a chuckle, before handing it back to Spookums.

"Why dey foightin trees doe?" He mumbled, looking through the magnoculars. He watched as a group of daemons were swatted away by a tree creature, with golden leaves flowing down its body, a massive staff in its hands. Several of the daemons writhed, as their mortal bodies failed them, while others got up, wading back into combat once again.

"Perhaps it is a rebel force. Forces that have not given into the corruption, or fled." Klaus muttered. Spookums rose an eyebrow, noting the small tinge of admiration in his voice. Spookums furrowed his eyebrows shortly after, glancing back at the battle. The Kaldorei forces were now falling back through a narrow pathway. The golden tree swung its staff again, sending dozens of daemons and cultists to the side of the bridge, landing into the water, where they were shot with arrows mercilessly.

"I believe it is time to report back to headquarters. The Necron may find this information… interesting." Klaus said, scratching the back of his head furiously. Spookums spared him a glance, as he snatched Klaus by the scruff of the neck, and carefully began to sulk through the trees some more.

"Alroight Alroight, weze goin. Keep ya gob shut, less ya want ta be found." Spookums grumbled, as he moved through the branches and leaves with several decades worth of experience. Suddenly, an arrow swooped through the air, smashing into the wood of the tree trunk. Spookums grunted in surprise, looking down where the assailant was. Several cultists were screaming at them, raising bows and slingshots. Spookums snarled, as he realized he was still carrying Klaus. They were around twenty feet down from the ground. Dropping him would be fatal.

"Oi! Oomie! Get on me back!" He yelled in a split decision, as he pulled out his slugga, putting a clip into the chamber. Klaus seemed shocked.

"The fuck did you just say?" He said in surprise. Spookums growled, snatching the humie by the throat, and putting him firm on his back. Klaus let out a stream of curses, and Spookums took a canteen from his belt, and popped the cork, taking a swig. He could feel the vile concoction taking an effect immediately. The edges of his vision blurred, and he could feel fiery energy coursing through his veins. He grinned, wiping his mouth, shoving the canteen back into his belt.

"'Old on toight git!" He said, as he began to run through the trees, leaping through the thick branches with staggering agility. Horrors chittered in bubbly excitement, flinging doom bolts at them. Spookums ducked (as best as he could), as the volley of doom bolts smashed through the trees, flinging branches aside, burning through the wood like it was nothing. Spookums roared a battle cry, firing his Slugga. Though he was not very accurate with his shots, the elevation certainly helped, as two daemons died, being consumed by warpfire, as their mortal bodies withered and perished.

"You're frakking insane!" Klaus snarled at him, as he held on for dear life, as Spookums flung himself through the trees.

"Roight and proppa!" Spookums grinned, firing another clip off from his bolt pistol, his other arm helping to stabilize himself as he leaped into another tree. Most of his shots missed, but one at least hit, killing a cultist. An arrow flew through the air, landing in Klaus's leg, right in his calf. He didn't say a word, as he still held on, not wanting to let go. Volleys of arrows now joined the doombolts. The vegetation and branches helped greatly in protecting the pair, though it was not complete protection. Several arrows landed in Spookums shoulder. He snarled in pain, as he reached into his bag, putting away the bolt pistol, taking out a handful of Stikkbombs.

"Hoomie! Frow em!" He yelled, giving them to the human. He looked reluctant, but yanked the pins off with one hand, and then lobbed them at the pursuing mob of daemons and cultists beneath them. A satisfying series of explosions came, followed shortly of screams of anger and wails of pain.

"Good frow." He grinned wildly, turning his head slightly to the human.

"Kill yourself." Klaus snarled back. Spookums chuckled as he took out his knife, slamming it into the bark of a tree, and began to slide down. The knife screamed and squealed at him, as he cut down into the wood, slowing their descent. The second his feet touched the ground, Klaus leaped off, and yanked the arrow that was lodged in his leg. He grunted in pain, as he began to run. Spookums followed, pulling out his Kustom Shoota, putting another clip in the gun.

"Dat was fun, roight?" Spookums grinned, as he turned around, letting out a burst of gunfire, as he could see another mob of daemons approaching. Klaus didn't say anything, as he took out the fancy shoota, and began to fire into the mob. They were backing up to the road to the village, where Spookums could hear the cries of alarm from the rest of the warriors.

"Alright… bakk up loightly!" Spookums shouted, firing another burst of gunfire, before turning around, taking a large lump of blocky explosives, taped haphazardly together. He took out the detonator, as he threw the boobee trap down, taking some leaves, and putting it on the trap.

"Dey wont see it kummin." He mumbled to himself, grinning, as he began to retreat. He really was kunning.

/

If Lofn was honest with herself, she would tell herself that Klaus could handle himself. However, she was not honest with herself. She paced around for the four hundredth and seventy second time. She was worried not about the man, but the mission. If he died, not only did all of the prophecies and tales crumble, it would be her fault. Her fault, and her fault ALONE. She could barely carry the hate that many directed at her, but the sheer amount of shame and guilt that would come to her if she failed…

She shivered, shaking herself out of it. She told herself that he would be fine. He can handle himself. He's fine. But Lofn couldn't help but feel dread. She could tell herself that he could handle herself. But she couldn't tell herself that she didn't like him. Alright, she didn't you know… _like…_ him, but she saw him as a friend. And considering his background, she would applaud herself on making him… somewhat manageable. She had charm, and that was what her mother told her. She fought down the wave of emotions that surged from mentioning her, as she pushed the thought out of her mind.

Of course, when she suddenly heard the far sound of a bolt pistol being shot, her fear spiked beyond what she had expected. The Necron paused, as he was currently overseeing the management of supplies being shipped, and looked up. The rest of the warriors paused their tasks, listening carefully.

"The Enemy approaches." The Necron announced. Many of the sentinels, (and few druids) grabbed their weapons, most of them being bows, while some drew enchanted curved swords. Lofn put on her Ghost Helm, as the lenses powered up, a blood red glow coming from her visor, as she rose her Force Staff. It flared in blue energy, before she lowered it. She prepared herself mentally for the fight to come, as she marched to the front lines. She passed the low trenches, that Klaus had dug in through all of the night. She didn't know if he had a shovel or not. And if he didn't… well, it was certainly commendable. As the archers manned the low trenches, that went up to their waists, she could hear the sounds of arrows being drawn from their quivers. She breathed slowly,preparing herself for the battle to cocme. In, and out. In, and out. In, and -

"Bakk up loightly!" She heard someone distant say. She paused, looking behind her. Mista Nailbrains was still patching up Bluddflagg's powa klaw, much to his frustration. And that wasn't his voice.

"Incoming!" She heard someone much more familiar say. She groaned, rubbing her helmet. Of course they did. Of course they did. Of course they-

She paused, as she saw the mob of daemons and cultists chasing the two. Spookums was dragging Klaus in the dirt by his greatcoat, running, while Klaus was firing his bolter, as he was dragged along. His leg was bleeding, and she swore. Of course, they had to screw up such a simple task! She swore that sometimes he acted like a complete bonehead. The Necron chuckled lightly, looking at the two, who were running towards them.

"Spookums! Detonate the trap!" Klaus roared at him. Spookums grinned wildly, as he took out a small stick, with a big red button. He pushed the button. Once, their was a mob of cultists and daemons charging to the front line. Bloodletters howling, their hell blades demanding blood. Shifting Horrors, giggling in excitement, warp fire at the tips of their claws. Lumpy Nurglings, happily marching forward, spreading their foul diseases with their pestilential touch. Cultists, once normal townsfolk, since driven to insanity. Some remain somewhat sane, and run forward, knifes and swords clutched in their hands, eager to spill blood for their dark masters. When the big red button was pushed, the blocky charges of explosives detonated. The Kaldorei cried in surprise, covering their ears and eyes, the explosion one of the loudest things they had ever heard. Spookums, who had been thrown into the dirt by the shockwave chuckled, rising up, one of his teeth missing. Klaus, who rose himself up, wheezed, clutching his ribs, as he limped forward. Worry overtook her, as she stepped out of the trenches, approaching him.

"Are you alright?" She asked, the worry in her voice very clear. He waved her off, continuing to limp back to the trenches. The Necron stepped out, approaching Klaus.

"I assume you have all of the information ready?" It asked politely. Klaus nodded, as Spookums came over, who was cracking his knuckles.

"It appears that some kaldorei military prescence remains. If I remember, they were fighting somewhere in the temple gardens. It seems that they are losing though, and will be eliminated without support." Klaus reported, who was still clutching his bleeding side. The Necron gazed at the wound, before Klaus.

"Admirable pain tolerance. I suggest you get it fixed though." The Necron said calmly, before looking at Spookums.

"And you. Watch where you detonate those explosives. Lest I show you some REAL… explosives." The Necron growled, before it spun on its heels, and marched away. Spookums mumbled something underneath his breath, as he took a swig of squig beer, before stashing it away, walking to the trenches. Lofn groaned, catching him by the shoulder. He flinched, and she couldn't help but notice his hands had inched closer to the bolter on his back.

"You need to get that fixed." She growled at him. He shook his head.

"I won't let no xeno touch MY wounds." He snarled, looking at her. He then paused, and sighed.

"I'm stitching it myself." He added firmly back.

"What do you mean, 'stitch it yourself'?" She asked. He merely snorted.

"Come now Lofn. I did not stutter. I said, i'm stitching it myself." He replied, a hint of humor in his voice. Smartass.

"Dont you need help?" She asked curiously. He paused, glancing at the wound in his leg.

"I suppose so. I don't think I can see the wound in my calf very well." He mumbled, looking at the red hole in his right leg, right in his calf. It was certainly bleeding, but he didnt even seemed bothered by it. Another thing she couldn't understand.

"You don't have to stitch that…" She mumbled, trailing off. He sighed.

"I don't. I can let it fester and rot, and then I get the pleasure of amputating it. Then, I get to have TWO prosthetics." He said, and she could hear him smirking underneath his mask. He had a prosthetic? Like he read her mind, he lifted his pant leg, revealing his metal prosthetic. It went up to his knees, and was a dull grey. There were many scratches and small holes all along the chassis of the prosthetic, but it seemed to work just fine. She wondered what the power source was.

"That's not what I meant." She snapped. He raised an eyebrow underneath his mask, waving her on.

"They have healing potions. I don't know how it works… but it works." She confessed. He didnt say anything for several seconds, before he replied.

"I guess. I would rather have it stitched, but it would impair my ability to work in combat." He grumbled, limping away. Lofn sighed, rubbing her helmet. He needed work. A lot of work.

Review Time

Guest: The World Tree will certainly be involved, though it may not go down like that...

rc48177: *cough* *cough* *wheeze* Chapter 34 section 1 *cough* *groan*

RedRat8: True the battle was short, but yet again, with three orks, dozens of night elves, a farseer, and guardsman, it wouldnt last long anyways...

p020901: :3


	41. Chapter 41: In due Time

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

So here is chapter 41.

Currently getting fucked clockwise by Chemistry, but thats not important.

Anyways, enjoy!

Bluddflagg rubbed his head in frustration, watching Mista Nailbrain work on his Powa Klaw. Apparently, those daemons did more damage then it appeared, as something within the Klaw refused to work. He listened to the sounds of battle nearby, and growled in frustration. The others were fighting again, and they were doing WITHOUT him! He growled in frustration, looking back at Mista Nailbrain, who was taking out his welda. Mista Nailbrain flipped the welda mask down, and Bluddflagg looked away, as Mista Nailbrain began to weld a particularly wide gap.

"Iz almost dun kapn! Justa gotta weld dis hole shut… den oil it… den stikk sum gubbins... maybe add a bit of tape… ya know… ta make it stikk..." Mista Nailbrain mumbled, as he began to ramble about the varieties of repairs necessary. Bluddflagg would have none of it, and silenced him.

"Fix it fasta! I gotta go foight!" He snarled, glancing back at the fight dozens of yards away, out of his sight. He could hear the sounds of battle, the sounds of swords clashing, and the sounds of bolters being fired. Spookums was already in the thick of it, and it was without him! Downright insulting that was! Mista Nailbrain shook his head furiously, as he took a wrench, and began to smack the base of the Powa Klaw. It was rhythmic, and near euphoric, as the wrench clattered against the surface of the Powa Klaw. Bluddflagg shivered in delight, as the wrench smacked against the

"I can't kapn! Da tools aint red!" Mista Nailbrain growled back. Bluddflagg roared. He had enough of this! No more waiting! Now it was killing time!

"DATS IT!" He screamed, rising up, Mista Nailbrain still clasping the base of his Powa Klaw.

"Kapn! Where da zog are ya goin!?" Mista Nailbrain cried out in confusion. Bluddflagg grinned, pointing at the front lines with the tip of Powa Klaw.

"OIM GONNA FOIGHT!" He snarled back, as he began to charge to the trenches, barreling forward with the speed an ork could have, which surprise surprise, wasn't that much (as his boots were not red). Mista Nailbrain squealed, holding on for dear life. His tools were all over the ground where they were, in various disarray. Mista Nailbrain screamed, holding onto the base of the Powa Klaw, wrapping his arms and legs around it, as if it could help keep him attached. The front lines were close to collapsing, as the metal boy was holding them off for as long as possible, while Lofn was ensnaring daemons in webs of wraithbone, leaving them vulnerable to the less skilled melee fighters and the much more skilled ranged archers.

"BUT KAPN! DA REPAIRS AINT REDDY!" Mista Nailbrain screamed, hoping to calm down the kaptain. Bluddflagg gave him a bloodthirsty grin, a mad shade of red glowing in his one remaining eye. Mista Nailbrain gulped, as he could hear the answer come out of the Kaptains mouth before he even opened it.

"OOO KARES?" Bluddflagg screamed, almost as high as his underling, as he leaped over the short trenches, smashing his powa klaw down, crushing a daemon. The night elves behind him gasped at his surprising speed, before they reorganized their arrow fire, shooting different targets.

"ZOGGIN HELL ME FINGAS!" Mista Nailbrain screamed in agony, as his Kapn continued to rip the line of daemons apart. Bluddflagg's pure amount of rage was like a lure to the nearest daemons, who approached him like a moth enslaved by a flame. Of course, like a moth enslaved by a flame, they were brutally murdered.

"RIP AND TEAR!" Bluddflagg screeched in his bloodthirsty frenzy, as Skull Cruncha absolutely mauled any who dared stand against him. He snatched a Bloodletter, and squeezed, snipping its body clean in half, while with his other hand, he grabbed a shifting horror, and smashed its head into the ground. The horror came apart messily in his hands, as he threw it away, turning into quickly growing embers. Mista Nailbrain dragged himself onto Bluddflagg's shoulder, and took out his kustom shoota, putting a rokkit onto da ignishun fing. Mista Nailbrain, grinned, as he looked at a charging mob of Bloodletters and daemonettes, who were charging Bluddflag's exposed rear. He shoved a clip of makeshift ammunition into the shoota, pulling back the pin.

"Boom!" He cried, as he pulled the trigger. The Rokkit exploded like a hand cannon, ripping the group of daemons to shreds. Mista Nailbrain grunted in surprise, glancing at what was left of the daemons, before at his shoota. Meanwhile, Bluddflagg grabbed several cultists in his klaw, and smashed them onto the ground, hearing their spine break, before throwing them away with little trouble. Bluddflagg squinted, briefly seeing the metal boy, who was ripping the cultists apart with little effort, before the wall of cultists reformed the wall, partially blocking his sight. Bluddflagg growled, as he waded forward, pushing the cultists aside with no difficulty. The sound of a bolter could be heard, and Bluddflagg could feel the explosion of heads from the cultists around him, floods of gore and chips of bone assaulting his green skin. Bluddflagg could feel dozens of blades being shoved into the lower region of his body, but only growled, the sheer amount of adrenaline and chemicals being pumped into him numbing the pain to the point it was non existent. Bluddflagg was more then angry. He was raging.

"Puny SKUM." He growled, as he swiped his powa klaw, wiping the floor of daemons and cultists, who were prey to the rain of arrows whooshing past him, and the bark of Mista Nailbrains shoota.

"I fought grots who were harda den dis!" Bluddflagg shouted mockingly, as he killed another score of cultists with a sideways sweep of his klaw, cleaving them into twitching pieces. The fight ended as quick as it started, as the remnants of the daemons were murdered, only a few cultists were left, and were about to be gunned down, when the Necron held up his hand. The sound of bows and shootas being lowered filled the air, as the Necron killed two that were left, leaving one.

"Whoi we aint killin 'er?" Bluddflagg asked in confusion, as Klaus came forward, bolter primed.

"Simple. Information." The Necron said, who gestured to Klaus, who 'subdued' the cultist, by beating her senseless. He whistled to a few kaldorei, who reluctantly grabbed the cultist by the ankle, dragging her away. Bluddflagg winced in sympathy, as he could only imagine the torture the cultist would be put through. He walked away, as Mista Nailbrain began to swarm over him like a parasite, as he continued to fix the Powa Klaw, preparing to weld shut new gashes and stick on some more tape.

/

Klaus smoothed out his greatcoat, trying to keep any cuts and holes hidden. He would have to sew the holes shut. Again, and he was running out of thread. It was protocol that a uniform looked nice and new for the next battle. So of course, he knew how to sew, but he would have to sew the holes shut later. The battle this morning certainly did some work on him, and he had earned his fair share of new scars (one going right down his chest, due to a lucky blow from a daemonette). And as usual, Lofn was worried sick about his physical health. She was starting to get annoying about this. He could handle himself. He didn't need no help. He snorted mentally, as he cracked his knuckles. The Necron had assembled a makeshift interrogation room, using a small hole and some tents to serve as so. Of course, he was no expert at interrogation, but he would have to improvise, as it seemed the Necron did not want to sully his metal hands with the cultist, something he could understand. He could see through the tent, and see the shadow of the cultist, who was tied down in a chair. He could hear her depraved whispering, her blasphemous chants and pleas, begging for her masters to help her. He clutched the blade of his knife in his hand, and felt the cold metal on his skin, as he tested its sharpness. His pale palm started to leak crimson red from a small slit in the center of his palm, and he nodded, as he slipped his gloves back on, satisfied on its ability to cut. He sighed, as he passed the Necron, who was standing vigilant by the entrance. Its warscythe was in hand, a large halberd like weapon. Its black metal edge was carved with glyphs, a green field of energy flowing around the blade. On the pommel of the scythe, was an unpowered blade, possibly for those the Necron deemed unworthy.

"I assume you are ready to begin another round." The Necron mumbled, keeping his voice quiet, an action Klaus copied.

"I still do not see why we don't kill the scum." He grumbled. The Necron sighed, looking at him. This had been his fourth consecutive round, and she had yet to say anything. She had earned quite a few new scars and bruises, though he hadn't done anything SERIOUS. Yet.

"Information. It's been three days since your scouting mission, and we have assembled most of the military force. We are ready to strike the capital, and root out the corruption. Of course, I am no longer in charge of the operation, that is Tyrande's job now." He replied. Klaus narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He had taken off his gasmask, as it was currently damaged. First his helmet, and now his mask, and he was furious. Anyways, if he knew anything about Necrons (which was not much) their bastard kin were obsessed with pride in themselves. Arrogance too, though not to a degree as the eldar. He would not hand over a position without a fight. The Necron could sense the rant coming, and put his black hand up, silencing him.

"Do not ask me questions. Ask her questions." The Necron growled. Klaus nodded, as he stepped into the tent, closing the flap behind him. There was barely any light, but any moonlight that came through, was shined on the cultist. Klaus looked in revulsion, pacing around the cultist, letting his combat knife shimmer in the moonlight. He paced around the cultist for a good minute, before he decided to begin.

"Alright you scum. You have something that I want." Klaus said, his voice as usual, void of emotions. He twirled the knife between and around his fingers, expertly flipping the base of the blade and the handle. He leaned in to the cultist, revealing his face. His light grey eyes stared directly at her, whitish red. She was whispering something, something he could not, or wanted, to understand. He decided to ask something rather simple, to begin with.

"When did this all start?" He asked, as he began to pace around her once again. She did not answer, still whispering. He turned around, and punched her in the back of the neck. She let out a cry, as the chair that she was bound too fell, and she crashed into the dirt. He let out several soft kicks with his prosthetic, right into her gut. She screamed in pain, yet refused to talk. He bent down, looking at her filthy purple hands. He took the knife, and lowered it to her fingers.

"Speak." He demanded. She was still whispering, as he could see tears start to cascade down her face, washing the filth of the dirt away.

"Very well then." He mumbled, as he began to cut into her fingers One by one, he cut them. First the thumb, then the index, and then the middle finger. Her screams of pain and agony only inspired him to do worse, as he raised his knife in order to lob off her ring finger. However, he was not done, when he was suddenly slammed against the tent wall, the knife skittering out of his hand. He grunted, looking up in anger, of who would dare interrupt the interrogation. Low and behold, it was the only xeno who would even dare touch him.

"Enough!" Lofn snapped at him, as she looked at him with emblazoning fury. He rose up, twirling the knife in his hands.

"I hope you have an excuse for this." He grumbled, as he stopped twirling it, wiping the tip clean of blood. Her already angry face contorted into something far worse.

"You've tortured her long enough." She said through clenched teeth. Klaus rose an eyebrow.

"Each session I have had with her had been roughly half an hour, and I have had four sessions. Most Imperial Torture sessions would have lasted far longer." He pointed out, completely missing the point. Lofn only gently shoved him out of the way, kneeling down to the cultist. She looked in revulsion at what he had done, before shooting him a furious glance. Klaus was only confused. The scum could not even be considered civilized. Why was she mad? She looked back, and stared hard at the bleeding cultists head. The air began to feel thick, and cold. Klaus took several steps back, involuntarily, as he could see faint tendrils of blue energy lick the side of Lofn's head. Witchcraft. He waited impatiently, as she began to do… whatever ritual she was doing. He waited for several minutes, twirling the knife in his hand, waiting for his turn. Then she took her staff, and plunged it into the cultists heart. She let out a cry, before she was quiet. Lofn yanked the staff out, twirling around to face him. Her brown eyes were filled with anger and displeasure, and yet again, Klaus was wondering what he had did wrong.

"We have what we need." She said, seething, leaving a very confused Grenadier.

/

Lord Nebetaruk looked intrigued, as Lofn finished her report, before she stood at attention. Not nearly enough discipline to suit him, let alone please him, but it was a start. His hands were locked together, the Warscythe currently laying in his cold lap.

"So you are telling me that the cultists are trying to sacrifice what energy remains in the second world tree, in order to open a daemon portal?" He asked, patiently waiting for a reply.

"In short, yes. However, the portal would be far more than that, I can assure you. Not only daemons could go through, but other chaotic creatures. Greater daemons, though they wouldn't last long." Lofn explained quietly. Nebetaruk thought about it for a moment. Greater daemons could certainly be an issue, and as of yet, he knew that their were barely any defences between Teldrassil and the Daemons. Of course their was the remaining forces that were still defending the temple gardens, and temple of the moon, but how long that would last, was unknown. He nodded at Lofn.

"Very well, the information is pleasant to know. I shall file a report, and send it to the mainland. You are dismissed." He said, as he took out a quill, dipping it in ink. Of course, sixty million years did some work on how well he wrote, but he would not be undermined. But Lofn did not leave, and instead, pulled up a chair in the so called command tent, and sat down.

"Necron, I… I have a question." She said, her voice soft. Nebetaruk frowned mentally, putting aside the quill, as he glanced back at Lofn.

"Ask it." He replied, and she sighed, playing with her brown hair with a pale finger.

"Is it possible… to change people?" She asked. This piqued his interest.

"There are ways…but why do you care?" He replied quietly, keeping his voice soft, which was quite hard. It had a harsh, grating sound to it. He would order a system check from the nano scarabs within the Phylactery later,

"Well… I was wondering if you could… do something for… me." She mumbled, dragging her answers behind her like a body. He would have raised his eyebrows, if he had any left. Instead, his eyes merely brightened slightly, yet still noticeable.

"And what would this be?" He probed, as she looked at him. Their eyes met, two soulless, glossy green orbs, staring at soft, light, brown biological eyes. They stared at each other for several moments, before she finally spoke her mind.

"I was wondering if you could do something with Klaus." She finally muttered, looking away. He grunted, leaning back in his chair.

"And what would this be? After all, we are not yet in good terms." He grumbled. She sighed, before she looked at him.

"I mean, you've seen him right? He has virtually no mercy, no remorse. Though I can tolerate, and understand his hatred for the ruinous powers, I can't stand for how he so casually, disregards any… you know… sympathy for those he faces. Even to those he doesn't, it's like he doesn't understand that they are still civilized creatures.." she said, before looking at him, with a small smirk.

"Of course, I can't expect you to share that." She chuckled. Nebetaruk would frown, but the best he could do was brighten his gaze, and talk with anger in his voice. Oh what he would do for muscles.

"I don't." he growled, before he gazed back at her, before back at the letter, that was still in front of him.

"What I want to know is why you asked me." He decided, looking back at her. She frowned, looking at him.

"I know you have the tools to do so. I trust Klaus, but he doesn't trust me. Or… anyone, really. All he trusted was his horse, but he sold it eventually." She admitted. Nebetaruk chuckled lightly, which earned him a suspicious glare.

"I see why you have come to grovel at my feet, like a parasite. You like him, yet you cannot stand him for what he truly is." He began, which then the suspicious glare turned into a baleful one. Yet he would not be intimidated, and continued.

"So, you come to me, to see If I can mold him into your image. Like a potter who cannot mold his own clay, so he asks for someone else to do it. Then, when the other is done, the potter will take it, and claim it as his own." He concluded, before looking back at her, smiling mentally. She was seething, before she took a breath, trying to calm herself.

"No, it's not like that! I just thought that it would benefit us all if he was less… genocidal…" She countered. It was true, it certainly would help him with his plans. He had plans for the boy, whether he knew it or not, and his racism was certainly a hurdle to overcome. So instead of jumping, why not cut it short a few inches?

"Very well. I shall do so." He said. This certainly caught her off guard. As if to elaborate his decision, he decided to continue.

"His genocidal actions are certainly not helping us in the cause. Therefore, I shall do some… subtle changes to him, regarding his actions against 'xenos' and 'abhumans'. He will not even be able to notice these changes, lest I reveal it to him." He added on. She smiled coyly, looking at him.

"But how?" She asked, her smile fading. He chuckled. He had many ways of doing it, but she did not yet deserve to know.

"I have my ways. Now, begone worm. I have things to do." He growled. She seemed to get the hint well enough, and flashed him a look of appreciation, before she left the tent. Nebetaruk mumbled something under his breath, and began to continue to write the letter. Of course, he was not actually paying attention to that, as he accessed a private channel to the Mindshackle Scarab Hive, and began to give out commands. Many of the Mindshackle scarabs still resided in the hive, but a small cluster were somewhere else. Somewhere close. He focused on this small cluster, and sent a small code of information to the currently dormant scarabs. The Mindshackle Scarabs buzzed to life, and began to do his work. Satisfied, he focused on writing his letter, as his audio sensors detected someone scratching the back of their head.

Review Time

Deathwatch Razgriz: Thanks! I appreciate that fellow authors can enjoy my work! :)

Guest: I couldn't find any information on Baphomael, and well, Malal... well Malal is **_404 ERROR! PAGE NOT FOUND! THE PAGE YOU WERE LOOKING FOR WAS EITHER DELETED OR MISSING!_**

Guest: It may certainly be like that! You never know!

rc48177: The difference between Brutally Cunning and Cunningly Brutal, is that when an ork is Brutally Cunning, he will hit you when you're not looking, and when an ork is Cunningly Brutal, he's going to hit you hard when you were looking. Just to know :)


	42. Chapter 42: Inconceivable

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!  
So here is chapter 42. I managed to get it out pretty early, and decided NOT to starve you guys.

Dont expect one tommorow though :)

Anyways, enjoy!

Klaus awoke with a roaring headache, and a sweaty forehead. He muttered something, as he wiped his forehead of sweat with a black sleeve, staining it further. He rubbed his eyes, and scratched the back of his head. Klaus glanced around, looking for his bolter. Seeing it by his feet, he rose up, and snatched it, as he began to don his greatcoat. Buttoning it up, and smoothing out the fabric, he stepped outside, before he stopped. Something was wrong. Very, very, wrong. He looked around, confused. This was certainly not Rut'theran Village. The ruined buildings were all gone, replaced by a green meadow of grass and flowers. The large trees were also gone, as long as the encampment. He looked behind him. The tent was no longer there either. Nothing, nothing from the camp, was here. He took out his combat knife in one hand, poking the tip with his other, which still clutched the bolter. He felt a pinprick of pain, a small drop of red falling from his index finger, splattering upon a patch of grass. He wasn't dreaming, it seemed. A hallucination maybe? If so… how? He felt his forehead once again, testing its warmth. It was hot. Perhaps he had contracted some sort of disease, and was hallucinating. Perhaps that's what it was. If he had contracted any type of disease from here… then he was probably going to die anyways. He shrugged. He knew it would happen, it was just a matter of WHEN. He heard grass rustle, the soft and gentle wind blowing behind him. He turned, expecting a variety of people to show up. Perhaps the reaper himself, ready to deliver him to the golden gates of holy terra. Perhaps a daemon, ready to claim his soul. Perhaps the emperor himself, ready to tell him that he had failed.

However, what was in front of them was not the reaper. It was not a daemon. It was not the emperor. It was a Korpsman. A grenadier to be exact. The grenadier stood in front of him, wearing the same colors as him. Gold tinted lenses peered back at him, a white grinning skull painted onto the mask. A hellgun was in hand, the power line going underneath its arm, and into its backpack. A tube of air was snaked over its shoulder, and down its back.

"What is this?" He asked patiently. The figure refused to respond, instead pacing around him. Its hellgun was down, but he noticed that a finger was on the trigger.

"I said. What is this?" He asked more forcefully. Yet again, nothing. He clenched his teeth.

"As a fellow grenadier, I will ask you once more, before I redirect you to disciplinary punishment. What, is, this?" He growled.

"Nothing." The grenadier spoke, and Klaus froze. That voice… he knew that voice… it seemed so familiar, but he could not put finger on it. He wanted to hear the grenadier speak again. He NEEDED to. As if to satisfy his request, the grenadier spoke to him.

"It's nothing at all. I know what this is. Do you?" The grenadier said again, and suddenly, the whole landscape changed. The green meadow was replaced with a charred and burning city. He could hear the faint KRAK noise of Lasguns being fired, and a rhythmic whoosh of other weapons being fired. He looked around, pulling back the firing pin. The grenadier chuckled.

"Their is no need for that." It said. One of the buildings close by was smashed, broken into pieces. A rumbling Leman Russ was driving forward, an executioner cannon pointed directly at him. It was not of the Death Korps, but the color scheme seemed familiar enough. Cadians maybe? Another building crumbled, but what came out of it was not a Leman Russ. A large, walker came out, nearly fifteen feet tall. Its domed head peered at the wraithlord, a large sword in hand. It seemed so… strange. Nothing was right about it, as the walker came forward. The Leman Russ fired, the executioner cannon shooting out a round. The walker kept walking forward, as the round exploded against it harmlessly. The walker drove the sword through the cockpit, ripping through the reinforced metal like it was butter. Its other, free hand, was stuck into the hatch, dragging out an unfortunate driver. The walker looked at it intently, as a dog would look over a bone. He could hear the screams of the driver, as the walker threw it down, and drove its sword through the driver, killing him instantly. He realised something about the colors. It was similar to what he knew of Craftworld Ulthwe. The black frame, the white, domed head. A glittering red stone was embedded in its center, as it looked around, seemingly confused.

"I don't understand…" Klaus mumbled, as the walker looked around, before it focused on him. It came forward, the bloody, glowing sword still in hand. Klaus started to take steps back, but a firm hand was placed on his shoulder. It was the grenadier. The walker seemed to walk right past him, as it walked down a ruined road, focused on a different target.

"I think you do. You just refuse to believe." The grenadier mumbled. Suddenly, he moved out of the way, looking around.

"Where is this? What planet? What sector?" He demanded, looking around.

"Verunga Hive." The grenadier replied, and he stopped. No. It… It… It couldn't be… Klaus ran up to the grenadier, his gloves tearing furiously at the straps of the grenadiers helmet. He needed to know. He needed to see. The grenadier did not even resist, as he teared off the straps with reckless abandon, as he ripped the gasmask from its face, and threw it away. It skittered to the ground, soon followed by a helmet.

Valkyries could be heard overhead, doing rocket runs. Bombs exploded nearby, sending dust and debris flying. However, he was not focused on that. Everything, was focused on the face in front of him. Bright, silver, eyes peered back at him, a porcelain white face completely unmarked of scars and the like. Short, messy white hair was moved out of the way with a gloved hand. It… It was her.

It was impossible. Absolutely Impossible. She could not be here. She could not be here, in front of him. She could not be here. But she was. He remembered the report. He remembered the Inquisitor, coming to him. It was at the end of a brutal campaign against the orks. He remembered the somewhat sad look in his eyes, as he began to say his words. She could not be here. She could not be standing in front of him, could not be talking, to him. She could not be in his arms, as she was right now.

Yet she was. He pulled back slightly, his eyes absorbing her facial features. It was her. He had no doubt of it. He struggled to say something. Anything. His vocal cords were glued together, like someone poured concrete in his throat. He wanted to say something. Needed to.

"Karen…" He breathed, his voice coming out as a pitiful mewl. She smiled, looking back at him.

"Klaus." She replied softly. They looked at each other for what seemed to be years. Cold, saphire blue met hard,yet soft silver. He gulped.

"How… How… How is this… possible?" He mumbled, trying to find any, any logical explanation for what was happening. Yet he could not.

"Shh…" She breathed, as she embraced him in a hug. He could feel his cheeks turning bloody red, as he gave it back. He wanted nothing else. Nothing else, but what was happening right now. Only him, and her. He closed his eyes, enjoying every last moment of what was happening.

"It's alright now." She whispered in his ear, as he opened his eyes.

It was gone. All of it, gone. He rose up, utterly baffled. He was still on the ground, the cloth blanket still smothering him. He looked around. It was still dark outside. He still had a roaring headache. He could still hear the drunk singing of Bluddflagg outside, which sounded like a Grox getting murdered by Noise Marines. He wiped his brow, which was still sweating. He rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of what had happened. But it did not. It made no sense. He clutched his forehead, confusion turning into something else. Sadness. Oh… oh what he would do to have her back...

/

Morning came, and so did another boat. However, what was on it was what both surprised Bluddflagg, but also made him chuckle.

"The Undercity has been seized by the traitorous scoundrel, Varimathras." Clea said, seething in anger. Bluddflagg raised an eyebrow, glancing at the six armed guards making a box around her. They were looking at him with a mix of anger, awe, and fear. Good. He cast his eye down at Clea, who was fully armed, and appeared ready for a fight. He grinned. What luck he had! It was like all of the fights were coming to him! But first, he needed to know something.

"Err… wots da Undacity?" He asked, confused. She clenched the bridge of her nose, as her whispery voice gave an answer.

"The Undercity is the capital of the Forsaken. However, some of us have turned traitor, and have driven the rest of us out. We were waiting patiently, ready for the right time to take it back. Now, we are ready to strike, and the Dark Lady has requested… your help. As a part of your… agreement." She growled. Bluddflagg chuckled lightly, playing with the massive blades of his Powa Klaw.

"Wots in it fur me?" He asked, looking back at her. She smiled coyly.

"A good fight." She said. Bluddflagg chuckled. She certainly knew how to interest an ork. But Bluddflagg was not any ork.

"Chip in sum shiny bits, and weze in." Bluddflagg said, gesturing to Spookums and Mista Nailbrain, who were standing behind him, playing cards. Where they got the cards, was unknown.

"It's a deal." She replied, seemingly eager. Bluddflagg stuck his hand between his gob, and whistled. The two orks looked up, confused.

"OI! GITS! WEZE GOTTA DO SUM FOIGHTIN!" He barked. The two orks came next to him, hoisting their weapons. Spookums was twirling his knife in his hand, juggling with the handle, while Mista Nailbrain was screwing a rokkit onto the ignition prongs.

"So uh… how weze gettin dere?" He asked impatiently, as the metal boy came over.

"What is the meaning of this?" It demanded, its hand gripping the warscythe impatiently, tapping the shaft of the scythe.

"Da pasty gits need da boyz ta krump sumfing." Bluddflagg explained. The Necron shifted its baleful glare at Clea, who returned with a withering stare of her own. The Necron sighed.

"I cannot allow all of you to go. Take Lofn and Klaus with you." It grumbled. Bluddflagg shrugged, while Mista Nailbrain and Spookums groaned, pleading with their kaptain to make them stay. He would have none of it, and smacked them both across the face. Hard.

"Shut yer bluudy mouth yoo too, fore I kick yer arse all da way to da moon." Bluddflagg growled, before looking at Klaus and Lofn, who were making their way over. They were dressed in their wargear, as the Necron had plans to take the Tradesman terrace.

"Good. You're here." The Necron said, as it turned to face them.

"What's going on?" Lofn asked, while Klaus was silent. Bluddflagg peered at him. Klaus was thinking of something, that much was clear, but of what, was unknown.

"It appears that Bluddflagg owes the Forsaken a favor, and is needed somewhere else." The Necron concluded, glancing back at Bluddflagg, who nodded.

"However, I cannot send all of his orks, as they are needed here for their skills. Therefore, You two are to accompany him." The Necron said. Lofn appeared surprised, even under her ghosthelm, while Klaus merely sighed, as he took out a clip of ammunition, putting it within his flash gun. Bluddflagg glanced at the gun, and grinned. It was certainly flashy, and he wanted it.

"Is this wise?" She asked, and the metal boy nodded.

"I suspect you will not be gone for long. Regardless, we will be able to do our respective work by ourselves. We will handle the situation here. When you return, I expect you to be here." The Necron demanded, which got both of them to nod.

"We do not have time for discussion. Decide who goes, and we shall take our leave." Clea said impatiently. Bluddflagg grinned, snapping the powa klaw.

"Very well then." Klaus said, as the two stepped forward to Bluddflagg, while everyone else moved back. Clea took out a large curled sheet of paper, and began to speak it. Bluddflagg grunted in surprise, looking at the strange blue shapes that were forming around them, and when she was done, she put away the scroll, as suddenly, they were gone.

/

Nebetaruk watched as the fleet approached. Ten battleships sailed forward, filled with warriors, ready to die for their homeland. Adventurers, eager to make their mark on history. Mercenaries, eager to get their pay. All of them were coming. He clutched his Warscythe for comfort, as the fleet approached. Many had fallen to the corruption. Many had died. There were many bonfires, many corpse burnings. But now it was time to end it all. The daemons would be ended. Nebetaruk knew Klaus was right. The chaos corruption would never leave this planet. Without someone to fight it, the world would be cast into anarchy, ready to be claimed by the greedy hands of the warp.

"Dats a lot of boats dat is." Spookums commented, as the two watched the fleet heading forward. Nebetaruk turned to the Kommando, who was twirling a Stikkbomb in his hands.

"This shall be an intense battle. All of your skills will be put to the test. I hope you are prepared." Nebetaruk pointed out. Spookums grinned, as he juggled the bomb between his two hands with expert precision.

"Course. Dis gunna be fun. Shame da Kapn gunna miss out." Spookums mumbled. Nebetaruk cursed the timing of these events. Although savage, Bluddflagg was easily the most 'skilled' melee fighter in their ragtag collective. However, he understood that Bluddflagg owed the Forsaken a favor, whatever that might be. However, he could manage without them.

"They have their own business to attend to." Nebetaruk merely said, getting a glance from Spookums.

"I gess so." He mumbled. They looked back at the fleet's, both with different, yet similar thoughts in their minds. Finally, Nebetaruk spoke.

"How did you become one of Bluddflagg's trusted associates?" He asked, deciding to indulge in small talk, while they were waiting. Spookums grinned, looking at the rocking waves.

"Me and Bluddflagg wuz Kommandos toggeva. Den un day, he killed da boss, and took da titul of Boss by imself." He said, pride in his voice.

"Togevva, da too of us wuz foightin and killin toggeva, long wiff da rest of da boyz. Da best ten yeers of me loife. He became da biggest ork in da klan, and I wuz da best Kommando Nob e had. But un day, woile we wuz burnin down bloo git 'ouses, I turnt ta him, and said 'Ya know wot? Instead of just killin, woi dun we loot and kill?'" He added on, and he grinned wolfishly as he continued.

"Bluddflagg said dat was da best zoggin idea 'e eva heard. So weze stole a oomie ship, and weze bekame Freebootas. But afta dat…" He mumbled, the enthusiasm leaking out of his voice. He sighed, before he continued.

"Eee wuz boss, and I was a Nob, so fings went bad… ya know? Mista Nailbrain took da place of First Mate, which wuz foine aneeways. But da tois we 'ad were fadin… ya know? But un day, woile we wuz foightin oomies, da krooza got shot down, and most of da boyz doied. My gud friend, Brikkfist doied too. He wuz a good foighta ee was, and a betta drinkin buddee. Afta dat… well…" Spookums mumbled, shrugging.

"It's been a hell uvva toime ere, ya know? And I kant bluddy wait for da big foight ta happen." Spookums said, suddenly excited. Nebetaruk frowned.

"What big fight?" He asked. Spookums grinned, looking at him.

"I dun zoggin know, but I know's dat at da end of dis all, deres gunna be a big, bluddy, foight." He said wildly. Nebetaruk assumed that the battle for Darnassus was not the 'big fight' that he had been anticipating.

"Fair enough." He said. The two were quiet, looking back at the boats.

"So uh… yoo got a story ta tell?" Spookums asked, glancing at Nebetaruk. He was intrigued. Spookums was always the quiet one of the three orks. Well, as quiet as an ork could be, which wasn't that quiet.

"I wish I could. However, my memory storages have been heavily damaged. I cannot remember much." Nebetaruk said. Spookums grunted.

"Ya tried turning yerself on and off?" He asked. Nebetaruk chuckled.

"I have not. But I may try." Nebetaruk replied, as they were silent yet again, preparing themselves mentally for the battle to come.

Review Time

Guest: Alright, I'll look around for Balphomael...

Commisar Carl: Well the only time I really have to write in the weekdays is the morning, and even then, its only like half an hour or so before I leave. So I'll try to work it out, you know?

King Rocket: Well Consider the following...

1\. Lofn and Klaus have not been together for the entire 41 chapters of Kriegcraft. They met roughly around Chapter thirteen.

2\. They have really only fought together 5 or 6 times together. Two of them were aganist beasts (im counting centaurs as beasts.)

3\. Farseers don't really leave the craftworld. Like ever, because they are that important for the craftworld itself. Their is a reason that Farseers are often commanders of entire warhosts of eldar troopers, simply because they have so much authority and power. Also why they are seen as leaders.

4\. I might have had this conversation. Probably did, and I forgot :P

And besides... who said that it would work?

rc48177: Their can never be a blend of Brutally Cunning and Cunningly Brutal, as it is too much orkiness. It will literally rip space apart. (except for Ghazzy, but Ghazzy is getting to Abadon levels of FAIL)

RedRat8: Good thing he's not a mind reader...

Guest: Someones getting it...


	43. Chapter 43: The Undercity

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

So here is a big, Hugh Mungus chapter. (For my standards, at least)

Lots of action, lots of killing.

Also, thanks for two hundred reviews!

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Transportation for the Imperial Guard was varied, and had interesting options. Rarely will a Guardsman ever walk to the front lines. Chimeras for example were excellent troop carriers. Similar to tanks, Chimeras were excellent troop carriers, armored, quick, and well armed in weaponry, it was the ultimate troop carrier. Valkyries were also good options, as they could carry many Guardsman, and still were quick, and well armored.

Teleportation, was probably never used on Imperial Guardsmen, for several reasons. One, it was very costly to use Teleportation, and a single Guardsman was probably never worth it. In addition, Teleportation was dangerous. Very dangerous, as teleportation devices were not only costly, but were inefficient, and would often kill the user, usually by teleporting them into the warp, or into solid surfaces. How Mista Nailbrain even survives every time he used his teleporter (which was frequent) was unknown to Klaus. Even though the thought was slightly heretical, he always wondered what it was like.

Klaus had never used teleportation before. Now he never wanted to do it again. The blue runes and sigils that flashed around them as Clea read the scroll made him think about the one he had in his bag. He wanted to burn it now, as his mind was recovering from the nauseous experience. He was alive. Somehow.

As if to rub salt into the wound, the second he opened his eyes, and looked around, there were orcs. EVERYWHERE. Orcs in different shades of color, to a familiar green to a ruddy brown, or orange. Almost all of them were dressed in black and bronze armor plating, with tufts of fur and hair sprouting out of various locations. They turned, seemingly surprised, even though he could not see their faces. In an instant, he could hear hundreds of axes, swords, and spears being taken out, all of their blades pointed at him and Lofn.

"What a wonderful welcome party…" He mumbled, as he kept his bolter low, though his finger was still on the trigger. Lofn kept her staff pointed down, though he could see she was combat ready. Bluddflagg merely chuckled, the massive ork towering above nearly all of the warriors assembled. He held up his massive arms in a placating gesture, looking at the ring of warriors around him.

"Ah kum on. Dis aint no way ya treet guests." The ork grinned, trying to lighten up the mood. Of course, it did not work. Klaus snorted, looking up at the ork behind him.

"Like you would know." He retorted. Bluddflagg grunted, offended. It was probably wise not to piss of a ork warboss, but he could not give a damn.

"Cheeky aint ya?" He growled back. Several black plated orcs shuffled aside, as four figures pressed through. One was another ruddy colored orc, who was staring daggers at Klaus and Lofn. A mighty war axe was clutched in one hand, and the arm seemed ready to swing. The next was a gangly blue creature, riding a reptilian beast. It was almost as tall as Bluddflagg, though it was hunched. A fiery red mohawk sprouted out of its skull, large tusks sticking out of its jaw. A ornate curved saber was in hand. The blue beast seemed to be more controlled then the ruddy colored ork, though he was clearly hostile. The next was another orc, green this time. Wearing similar black and gold armor as the others that surrounded him, a warhammer was in one hand, the other was clenched in a mailed fist. He was calm, though by far the most interesting figure was on the far right. She looked incredibly similar to Clea, though their were some differences. Her eyebrows were strangely large, sticking out into the air. A black cloak was worn around her shoulders, though it revealed her shapely body in some locations. A bow was in one hand, a quiver on her back, with a variety of barbed, and rather painful arrows inside. She didn't seem to be troubled at all, though her strange looking steed didn't seem to be as calm.

"Bluddflagg. I see you brought friends." She said, finally breaking the silence. Bluddflagg tipped his hat, an action that made Klaus snicker. Lofn gave him a nudge with her elbow right in his side, silencing his laughter.

"Dat I did. I 'ope dere aint gunna be a prob wiff dis." Bluddflagg replied calmly. Klaus had to admit, sometimes, Bluddflagg acted like a gentleman. How this was possible, was unknown. Yet again, orks had a tendency to make no sense whatsoever.

"You dare bring Alliance dogs here?" The ruddy colored ork snarled, pointing his war axe right at Klaus. Klaus decided to keep silent, and keep his face equally calm. He wanted to shoot the orc. Shoot every single one. But something told him that this was not the most wise decision. He was also surprised that the orc was speaking coherent gothic, but he also decided not to bring that up.

"Silence Garrosh. I will not turn away allies." The green colored orc said, clearly the leader. However, the now named Garrosh would not be muzzled so easily.

"Silence? SILENCE? I will not allow this!" Garrosh snarled, coming forward. Lofn shot up her hand, directing her palm right at Garrosh. He froze, completely still. His eyes took on a light hue, as he let out a rumbling groan. A thick string of saliva came from the orc's maw, drooping onto the ground with an audible splat. Foam came from his mouth, turning his lips white. The air grew cold, and Klaus could tell it was witchcraft. Both Bluddflagg and Klaus took several steps back, which was when Lofn lowered her hand. Garrosh let out a rumbling sigh, as he fell to the ground, face first into the dirt, the axe falling out of his grasp. His chest heaved, which meant that he was still alive. The three others glanced at Garrosh's body, before looking back at Lofn.

"He will awake soon." She simply said, clicking her staff on the ground. The green orc nodded.

"I thank you. He has become less… controllable… with the recent events at the Wrathgate." The orc said, probably not knowing that the three were completely out of loop of the recent news. To keep his anger and zeal controlled, he decided not to ask.

"So uh… oo's we foightin?" Bluddflagg asked, getting the attention from the other three, while the hundreds of orcs still had their weapons raised.

"The Undercity has been seized by the demon, Varimathras. He has called upon the Burning Legion for his own malicious schemes." The orc explained. At the mention of demon, Klaus checked his bolter to see if it was loaded, an action that the three horde figures noticed. They watched as he took out the bolt clip out of the gilded bolter, seeing him examine and count the number of bolt shells were in the clip, before gently putting it back, whispering a prayer to the machine spirit. He did not notice the gaze he got from the Dark Lady, as he was focused on soothing the machine spirit of the bolter.

"Alright den Thrall. Lets get ta killin." Bluddflagg grinned. The orc nodded.

"Agreed." Thrall shouted, as he turned, pointing the gate of the so called Undercity.

"Blood and thunder, champions of the Horde! We fight on this day for our fallen brothers and sisters! Mourn them not for they all died with honor in their hearts!" He roared, getting a roaring warcry from the orcs around him, who had lowered their weapons.

"Though we face great conflict, our might combined shall obliterate those who would oppose us! The grave injustices committed against the Horde will be met by an unstoppable force of reckoning!" He yelled, getting another rumbling warcry from the mass of orcs and other soldiers. Lofn even joined in, something he disapproved. Bluddflagg, he could understand. After all, he was technically an orc. Lofn however, deserved better then these bloodthirsty brutes. He was still not aware of the stare he was getting, and he didn't care. But he would soon learn why you never attract the Dark Lady's interest.

/

Lofn watched as the so called warchief of the horde, riled up the entire army with only a few words. It was an incredible effect, watching as the orc's let out their warcries, ready to plunge into battle with so much uncertainty. The path of the warrior always interested her. She knew that it was a path that some chose for the thrill. The thrill to kill, the surge of ecstasy one got when a blade was plunged through a heart, a head separated from a neck. While others joined the path of the warrior to protect their homes, and to defend it from the monstrosities that lurked out in the black, cold void.

She looked at the orc's, who were raising their heads, letting out roiling war cries, prayers on their lips, as the mass began to march to the ruined gates. She wanted to see what the future held for her, but as of right now, she did not have time. Scrying would take too long, and would leave her vulnerable anyways.

"Ooo hoo hoo! Dis be excoitin lads. Can ya feel it? Da Powa of da WAAAGH!" Bluddflagg grinned, chuckling like a madman. She looked at him in horror. She could certainly feel the energy they were resonating. It was like a constant beat of quiet drums, a sound like ambiance. The energy beating within her heart, riling her up. She controlled herself. She could not allow the energy to take over. It was nauseating, like a thick fog of energy running through her nose. Klaus was unaffected, as he was of course, not a psyker. But how did Bluddflagg know?

"Been a long arse toime since I wuz in a WAAAGH! Dats changin doe, aint it?" He said aloud, to no one in particular, as he tilted his head back, his jaw hanging open.

" **WAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHH!** " He roared, almost as loud as the bombardment of artillery that was happening overhead. The orcs nearby cheered in, as the smog of violence and bloodlust Bluddflagg was emitting began to take over. She watched in horror as like Khornates, the orcs clanged their weapons against their chests, making a resonating sound, like the beat of drums. It was an action Bluddflagg copied, slamming his Powa Klaw against his chest. Wouldn't that hurt?

"I imagined many things in my career. Being stuck in an ork WAAAGH!, was not one of them." Klaus said with something alike with disgust. It was clear that if he was not comfortable around several xenos, he would be downright insulted when around hundreds. Orc's no less, which he had expressed many times he loathed.

"Lighten up would you? Things could be worse." She said, chiding him. To this, he raised an eyebrow. She was secretly guilty that she had 'accidentally' gotten it broken. It felt like he was missing something, and he seemed to be acting different after it happened.

"Such as?" Klaus retorted.

"Working with daemons, for example." She said. To this, he frowned his eyes alight with hatred.

"Keep your blasted fantasies to yourself." He growled. She smirked, looking away. He wanted her opinion, did he not?

"I call to you great spirits! Grant the Horde your blessing! For on this day our cause is righteous and just!" Thrall shouted from the front, where he was leading. Suited him.

"Spirits of wind, carry to Saurfang the Younger the song of war! May ALL of our fallen brethren be vindicated by this battle!" He cried out, which got her attention. The orc was a psyker? She had never seen an ork psyker, though her father told him that they were more likely to kill their allies then the foe. Maybe she would be lucky.

"The battle for the Undercity begins now! Sound the horns of war! Champions of the Horde, be empowered by the might of your Warchief!" Thrall roared. The deep sound of horns could be heard, as the horde cried out once more, a cry of anger, of bloodlust, of fury. Bluddflagg cackled, firing his Kustom Shoota into the air, adding into the cacophony of noise. A golden flash appeared from the barrel, a thick cloud of smoke following, as several empty casings fell to the ground.

"A waste of ammunition. Have you no firing discipline?" Klaus asked, clearly annoyed. To this, Bluddflagg chuckled.

"Have ya no wit?" Bluddflagg replied back, which kept him quiet. For now. As they crossed the bridge, they stood at the stairs of a courtyard. Large barrels were flung over the walls, exploding into a foul, and noxious green mist. Standing in the center of the courtyard, was a large daemon, who turned to face them. Strangely, it did not look like any daemon she had ever saw. With a humanoid appearance, and the presence of hooves and horns, along with bat wings, it didn't look like an aligned daemon she had ever seen. Perhaps a daemon of chaos undivided, but she could not be sure.

"You must answer to the elements, demon!" Thrall shouted from the front, as the army crowded around the entrance. The demon chuckled, gesturing to the courtyard around him.

"Welcome to my kingdom of darkness!" The demon grinned, gesturing to the ruined courtyard. Corpses were everywhere, along with other strange piles of flesh. Some kingdom.

"Did you enjoy my minion's terrible creation? Potent, is it not?" He grinned, as more barrels were flung into the courtyard, releasing their foul chemicals. Then, she watched as horror as the bodies began to rise, Shambling creatures of flesh and bone rose, their maws opening up in a silent scream. Large creatures, ten feet tall, rose, seemingly stitched together, holding crude cleavers and other kitchen utensils. She was pretty sure one had a frying pan.

"But enough prattling! You wish to reclaim your city? Come then, heroes! Your souls will fuel the host! You will have this place back in pieces!" The demon roared, as a dark purple portal opened behind him, and the demon stepped through. The portal swallowed the demon, as it flared one last time, and then closed.

"Great water spirit, wash away this corruption!" Thrall shouted. She watched as a large tidal wave of water, seemingly coming out of nowhere, rushed forward, sweeping away the green filth. Demons began to come from a door of the courtyard, armed with halberds and other pole arms.

"ATTACK!" Thrall shouted, pointing his warhammer at the foe. Lighting shot from the hammer, sizzling several demons, as they cried, and fell. Lofn stepped out, and prepared herself for one of her most dangerous spells. She floated several feet from the ground, as her arms began to do complex moves and gestures. Klaus stood by her, watching in unhid horror, as she drew in the maximum amount of warp energy she could use. Her eyes glowed blue from psychic energy, though no one else could see. More and more orc's stopped and watched, as she focused on the center of a quickly forming mob of opponents, and released the eldritch storm. A dark blue vortex appeared over the demons, as psychic bolts rained from above. Demons and other abominations were utterly ripped to shreds, the psychic energy tearing them from limb to limb, while others merely disintegrated. The 'lucky' few that survived were flung away, ready to be dispatched with a quick swing of a blade. She could hear their screams, but she could not stop, as she continued to channel all of the built up energy inside of her into the storm. The waystones on her robes glowed hot red, and she could feel the energy within threaten to shatter. She was slowly lowered, as the storm consumed itself, slowly disappearing. She collapsed onto the ground, where Klaus rushed over.

"Damn you Lofn. Get up." Klaus whispered in her ear, as he raised her up. She took greedy breaths, and winced in pain, feeling the unseeable marks on her shoulders and lower parts of her body. She was held gently, as she could see more demons coming out, only to stop. The courtyard could no longer be called a courtyard. A charnel house would be a more appropriate term. Demons, Abominations, and anything that had been caught in the storm had been ripped to shreds. Bodies were no longer recognizable, the most recognizable missing limbs, organs utterly ripped to shreds. Like a Carnifex among Guardsman, their was nothing left of the mess demons but skin, bones, and blood.

"Impressive." The cowled figure of what she thought to be Sylvanas said, in what appeared to be satisfaction, as the horde of orcs charged, leaving her and Klaus behind. Klaus lowered her up against a stone wall, easing her down to the ground.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Klaus growled at her, looking at her with what she saw as both fury, and also… worry. He turned away, taking out his golden bolter. It certainly looked nice.

"Why do you care?" She retorted. He seemed genuinely surprised, as he raised his bolter, firing it once, before looking back at her.

"I will not allow an ally to be harmed before a fight even begins." Klaus said with a scowl.

"That's so sweet." She said sarcastically. It went right over his head, as usual.

"Don't take it for granted." He grunted, as they both turned their heads to hear an inhuman roar. A large beast, nearly thirty feet tall rose up, looking like a mass of flesh sewed together. A large drill served as its one hand, a rudimentary claw serving as the other. Klaus sighed, as he fired at the massive beast, which didn't seem to be doing… anything. Klaus noticed this, and changed targets, focusing on the daemons farther away. She had to admit, he was a pretty good shot. She knew that the recoil of bolters were strong, though how strong, she didn't know, and certainly didn't want to try.

"You got enough juice for another one?" He asked, not looking at her, as he continued to empty the bolter of ammunition. She shook her head.

"I think you already know the answer." She replied. He shrugged, as the last bolt shell flung out from his bolter, leaving a small pile of casings. He reached into his satchel, pulling another clip.

"It was worth a try." He muttered, as he focused on firing on smaller targets.

"You don't have to stand here you know." She said. Klaus chuckled.

"Are you so eager to die?" He asked, and she did not answer, to which he turned around, a small grin on his lips.

"I thought so. So shut the frak up, and enjoy the show." Klaus said, turning around, and continued to fire. She sighed, as she focused on getting her strength back. Only he would say something like that, and for now, she was fine with that.

/

Sylvanas was a lady of opportunity, and quite the schemer. She was a very good liar as well. She, and she alone knew her true goals, and the future of the Forsaken in general. She had shaped an empire from the dust and ruins of Lordaeron, all by herself. Truly, she was brilliant, but she didn't want to gloat.

However, that scum she knew as Varimathras may have very well cut down the roots of her empire, poured some oil on it, and laughed, as he set it aflame. All of her plans were ruined. All of them. Foiled, by that scheming bastard. In reality, she knew that the demon would betray her. The nathrezim were manipulative little swines, who had no loyalty in their brethren and followers. They only had loyalty in Sargeras, leader of the Burning Legion. Whether it was from intimidation, slavery, she did not know, but in reality, she did not care. She knew that the demon would betray her. However, she did not count on several things.

One, that the demon would betray her so soon. It only had been five years since the forming of the Forsaken, and five years since he had been her advisor. She certainly had not counted on him betraying her so quickly. Second, she had no idea of how masterfully crafted his plan was. Even if it failed, she was already marked as a target. The Forsaken had been inducted to the horde for one reason, and that was Thrall. Not whether it was a good choice or not, simply because he was the Warchief, and what he says, goes. One of the main positives of the induction, was that the Horde would have a forward base in the eastern kingdoms, something they desperately needed to stay relevant. Now, it wasn't looking like such a wonderful benefit, after the events of Wrathgate, and the traitorous scum Putress. Third, she suspected when that the betrayal happened, the former slaves of the Lich King, the Forsaken were, would stand with her against the traitor. She could not have suspected that even members in her royal apothecarium would turn against her. Her foolishness had nearly cost her life. She fantasized of ways of how she would torture the bastard that was Putress and Varimathras. They would beg for her to end the pain. But she would not. They would die a slow, agonising death, and even then, it would not satisfy her. Nothing would. She stopped thinking about her plans of revenge, as a demon was flung into the air, only to be shot into pieces.

It was only several weeks ago, that a certain three had caught her interest. It was luck, and luck alone, that she had meeted them. It was Kaptain Bluddflagg. She always wondered what he was like in combat, and now… now she knew.

Bluddflagg was an unstoppable force, a monster that the Burning Legion could not hope to stop. Every wound inflicted upon him would have felled mortal men and women alike, he shrugged off. She watched with interest as the wounds healed, forming thick, leathery scars. His claw was utterly devastating, ripping through armor and flesh like it was wet paper. The demons could not stop him, and slowly gave ground, only leaving the corpses of their fallen to show their efforts. She watched as Bluddflagg snatched a felguard, and bit its head off, spitting the head out, knocking down another felguard, which he stepped on, crushing its spine beyond recovery, all the while drinking the demons blood. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow, waiting for the changes of the demon blood to affect him. To her surprise, nothing happened. He burped, throwing the corpse away, chuckling. He swiped his claw, cleaving three demons into equal pieces. As they slid down to the already bloodied ground, he was already dispatching another target. He snatched another demon, only for her to hear the sound of a cannon being fired, and its head disappearing in a red mist. She was elevated upon her perch, still laying arrow fire into the mob of demons, as she saw the new figure approach, yet another source of interest. It was the human the orc's were looking for. A golden and ornate cannon was in his hand, as he fired. A golden shell fell out of the gun, as a felguard howled, its arm disappearing at the elbow. It looked at the human, before its head disappeared, shooting out a fountain of gore and bone. The human changed targets, firing with discipline. She listened closely, her ears perking up, as she heard him chant something.

"The enemies of the emperor will be smitten at my hand. The daemon will know pain, for challenging the sons of men." The human said, firing at a felhound that was charging him. The felhound screamed, as it's leg was maimed beyond recovery. Another shot ended its miserable life.

"The xeno will know death, for their scheming and malicious ways." A felguard collapsed, a fist sized hole in its chest, as blood began to pour out of the cavity.

"The mutant will know fear, for they shall be cleansed in holy fire." An abomination howled, as a hole appeared in its shoulder, inadvertently blowing off an arm that was about to cleave an orc into pieces. The abomination let out a howl, as it approached the human, before it waddled back, and fell, part of its head completely ruined.

"Honor the Imperium." A felguard fell, its leg disappearing at the knee, where a Kor'kron guard finished it off.

"Honor the emperor." A zombie fell, its pelvis blown to oblivion. It struggled to get up, only to be crushed by an grunts boot.

"Honor humanity." Another felguard died, the area of its heart exploding outwards, spilling dark gore to the already blood caked stone.

"Amen." The human said, as he yanked out a sickle like object from the gun, before sliding in a new one. Sylvanas smiled, as she took out an arrow, shooting it at another demon, who howled, before its head exploded. She would invite them to stay, and it was then, the pieces would fall into play.

/

Bluddflagg took the demon by the neck, and slammed him against the wall, cracking its neck. He dropped the body of the demon, and shook his hand clean of gore. One things he liked about these demons, was that they didn't disappear in his hand. He could feel the blood and ichor pouring out of the wounds he inflicted. Best of all, they weren't squishy. When he touched daemons, they felt weird, and squishy to the touch. Here, it was just good ol skin. Perfect, as he wouldn't feel as uncomfortable in ripping them to pieces. They certainly didn't taste any good, and he still had the taste of demon on his tongue. Yucky, it was. The massive flesh golem proved to be fun, but he certainly could feel some broken ribs, so he decided to let the others take care of it. It was now dead. He wanted to take its head as a trophy, but that would be stealing someone else's credit, and he didn't do that. Bluddflagg whistled, as what was left of the army came to what appeared to be an elevator. It was certainly a long fall. He spat over the edge, and it took a full ten seconds before he heard his spit land on the ground. He whistled again, stepping back

"Dats a nastee fall." he said, moving out of the way, as Sylvanas and Thrall came over, looking down the shaft.

"The shaft is trapped, Warchief. A fall would mean certain death." Sylvanas pointed out. Bluddflagg grunted. Smartass.

"Great air spirit, hear my call once more!" Thrall bellowed, waving his warhammer in the air. Bluddflagg moved his head back a few inches.

"Careful. Yer gonna poke an eye out." Bluddflagg grunted. Thrall didn't seem to notice his comment, as suddenly felt a sudden breeze from down under. Judging by how he was still conscious and breathing, it couldn't have been one of his farts.

"The spirits of air have heard my call. Cyclones will lower us to safety. Now we jump!" Thrall shouted. Bluddflagg was about to call him crazy, when he looked at the elevator shaft again. A barely visible gust of wind could be seen, but it was certainly powerful. Bluddflagg grabbed his hat, holding it onto his head, as orc's began to jump down. Bluddflagg watched, as the orc's were gently lowered down the shaft, where he could hear the sounds of battle once again.

"Absolutely insane." Klaus mumbled, coming to the edge. Bluddflagg sensed that he wasn't going to be moving anytime soon, so he shoved him down the shaft, and he chuckled, hearing the echo of his curses. Bluddflagg jumped down shortly after.

It was a weird feeling, as he was lowered down like a baby. The cyclone of wind lowered him down, where he had to move out of the way of the spike trap. He followed the group of orc's as they came into an expansive district.

"What have they done to my beautiful city!" Sylvanas cried out in anger, as Bluddflagg looked around. It certainly looked like shit. Glowing rivers of green ooze could be seen throughout the district, with many buildings being destroyed and the like. The usual.

"The only redemption for the traitors responsible for this will be an agonizing death. My vengeance will be swift and without mercy!" She growled. He didn't expect someone to agree with her.

"Indeed. Traitors deserve no mercy, and should be butchered like the vermin they are." Klaus grumbled. Bluddflagg raised an eyebrow. Why the hell would he say anything? Bluddflagg found it rather hard to talk to the humie. Rarely did he talk to the humie anyways, but that wasn't the important part. Sylvanas threw him a glare, that Bluddflagg could read all too well. Surprise. It was gone as soon as it came though, as Thrall stepped forward.

"Lead the way, Dark Lady. We will follow." Thrall said. Bluddflagg wasn't paying attention, wondering what the green ooze tasted like. He was relieved of his curiosity, as he watched a rat drink it, and then watched its stomach explode. He winced, as he began to follow the party again, deciding not to drink it. He was thirsty though… but it was poisonous… but he was thirsty… choices, choices, choices...

Bluddflagg glanced back at the new scars on his shoulders and chest. They certainly stung more than they should have. Poison maybe, but he didn't feel any stranger. He felt an itch where he once had his eye. He scratched the metal eyepatch with his finger. It really itched. Ow. They continued to walk, when suddenly, Sylvanas shot a hand up.

"HOLD! I sense dark magic. Demon magic… Stand Ready!" She shouted, as a portal opened up, and the demon he assumed was Varimathras came through. He liked the wings. He wanted them. Good trophies.

"Clever girl…" He purred, as he began to open portals around the party. A tight circle was formed, and Bluddflagg couldn't help but notice how close Sylvanas was to him. She gave him the creeps. Proper creeps, not the purple goo.

"My brothers have grown hungry… Your souls will sate their appetite." Varimathras said, before Bluddflagg heard a bolter fire. The demon hissed, a hole in its shoulder pauldron, as it quickly ran out of sight.

"Cowardly thing." Klaus spat, as demons began to pour out of the portals. Bluddflagg growled, as he snapped his Powa Klaw closed, ready to kill yet again. However, Bluddflagg was no fool. They were surrounded, and he thought that they wouldn't win without losing quite a lot. That was until he heard bells ringing.

/

Klaus was no stranger to impossible odds. How he survived everyday in the Korps was near impossible. How he survived for six years in deployment was a testament to that, in addition for being a grenadier for two. However, the possibility of this happening should be impossible. Here he was, surrounded by greenskins and… whatever the Forsaken where, calling them allies, as he was surrounded by demons. What an epitaph he would have though! Here lies 652733-172948 'Klaus', who died in an alternate dimension, fighting with xenos, killing demons. Hell, he would have been looking forward for it. If it wasn't for the bells ringing. The demon warriors that had surrounded them were confused, looking around. So where the other orcs. However, Klaus and Lofn knew what it meant.

"Legion…" She whispered, as a fiery pillar of flame appeared in front of them. The demons howled, letting out cautious snarls and shouts, as the pillar of flame swirled forward, a towering black figure appearing within the pillar. The church bells continued to ring, as Legion stepped out. In his hand was the strangest weapon he had ever seen. It looked like a thunder hammer, but it was jet black, with the head being bone white. In addition, fiery warp flame surrounded the head of the hammer. Didnt he have a bolter before? Legion was silent, as he attacked the line of demons. Those smitten with the hammer screamed, as red flame burned not only their bodies, but souls. He could hear ethereal screams of agony, as the demon's souls were ripped forcefully out of their body, as Legion continued to kill them all. Klaus shook himself out of his confusion.

"ALRIGHT YOU XENO SCUM! WE LIVE TO FIGHT AND WE FIGHT TO LIVE, RIGHT HERE! ATTACK!" He roared, firing the bolter, killing several demons. A roaring warcry erupted from the parties lips, as they charged into the confused tide of demons and other abominations. Klaus put the bolter over his shoulder, empty of ammunition, as he took out the power saber. The powerfield erupted, creeping along the blade, as a demon charged at him, a large halberd in hand. Of course, Klaus was no skilled swordsman, but he had to improvise. The demon swung the polearm, and Klaus ducked, preferring not to test his strength by blocking it.

"GLORY TO THE EMPEROR!" He cried, as he ducked underneath the demons arms, plunging the power sword into its jaw. It didn't make a sound, as he yanked the sword out, making the demon collapse.

"GLORY TO THE IMPERIUM!" He said, as he accidentally came back to back with Thrall, as the two continued to parry and block blows meant for each other. Klaus could feel the fiery energy of faith and zeal run through his blood like poison, affecting his every movement. A large demon, armed with two curved scimitars pointed at Klaus with a blade, making a challenge. Of course, the demon never got the challenge, as a roiling blast of psychic energy made it howl, as its face peeled and burned off, revealing the sickly skull underneath. He didn't even need to say thanks, as he sliced a demon's leg off at the knee. It howled, kicking out at Klaus with its other leg. He grunted in pain, as he was sent several feet back by the blow. The carapace armor took the brunt of the blow, but fuck, it hurt. Klaus went over to finish the job, but it was not needed, as two fiery wolves appeared out of nowhere, ripping the demon to pieces. He glanced back at Thrall, who was grinning, as he smashed a demon's weapon aside. It growled in anger, and then howled in pain, as he sent the hammer right into its windpipe, crushing it utterly.

"Lok'tar Ogar!" Thrall said, as the demon fell, and he smashed the hammer down, ending the demons pitiful life.

"FOR THE HORDE!" He shouted, as he let out bolts of lightning from the hammer, killing a demon that Klaus could not even see coming. He said thanks, and then paused. He said thanks, to a xeno. An orc no less. What… what was happening to him? Klaus snarled, as a hound pounced on him, knocking him down. The power saber skittered out of his hand, and he cried out in anger, as the demon's slavering jaws reached to bite his head off. He held the jaws open with his hands, as the demon tried to eat him. Disgusting black saliva dripped down his gloves, and he could feel its hot, dank breath. Klaus let out a snarl, equally as ferocious as the beast, as he slowly but surely began to push it back. The demonic beast then howled, as it was lifted into the air, before it was ripped into pieces. Lofn offered him a hand, while she swung her force staff, smacking a demon warrior in the face, stunning it.

"Thanks." He said, this time not as guilty, as he snatched his power saber, and finished the demon off. He caught sight of Legion, who swung the thunder hammer, sending a batch of flaming demons flying. Legion was eerily silent, and he noticed the aura of flame that had surrounded him. If he didn't know better, he would assume Legion was a daemon. Maybe he was...

"Focus!" Lofn said, slapping him in the face lightly. Klaus promptly put up his left fist, and slowly raised up his middle finger. He could practically see her smile, as she continued to let out bolts of psychic energy, flinging demons aside like ragdolls. She began to float again, and Klaus took several steps back, as a demon warrior charged him. Their weapons met, and Klaus instantly knew he could not win the test of strength. The demon grinned, revealing a set of twisted incisors and sharpened canines. Black saliva dripped down its lips, as it pushed Klaus back and back. Klaus slid out of the way, which made the demon trip. It let out a shout of alarm, talking in its filthy tongue, as Klaus shoved the power sword into its spine, severing it. He then moved up, and sliced its head off. He spat on the demon, as suddenly, Lofn let out a storm of energy. It was not as powerful as the first one, but it was still something, as the bolts of energy that came from the sky and from the ground collided sending demons flying. She was lowered from the ground, and she took a huff, as she continued to help support the others. She was pumping out her psychic powers like it was nothing, and he had heard more than one orc cry out at alarm as they could suddenly see the foes attack before it came, or to see where it was going to move before it happened. It was a new experience for Klaus, no doubt about it. He never liked psykers. Maybe that could change.

"Come, sons of the horde! Push them back!" He heard Thrall roar. One thing that he didn't like about Thrall (not counting being a xeno, which put him pretty far down on his 'likeable' chart) was that he was constantly shouting battle cries. Like a crude imitation of a Commissar, though it seemed that Thrall was not eager to kill his own brethren. Something that screamed wrong, in all sorts of categories. He watched a skeleton shamble around, stabbing its blade in a demon's back. 'The frak was that?' was the first thought that went into his mind. 'Spooky' followed it. Legion swept his warhammer, killing a demon that threatened to impale Klaus. He slapped himself in the head, telling himself to focus. Then he heard something. The krak of a lasgun. He turned, and saw a korpsman, firing into the mob of melee, shooting at the demons. The korpsman turned. It was Karen. Klaus rubbed his eyes, nearly cutting off his arm with the action, only for her to be gone.

"She's not real…" He mumbled to himself, turning around, as a demonic beast charged at him.

"She's not real…" He told himself, as the beast jumped. Klaus rolled out of the way, as the beast tried to correct its leap, and failed. It slammed to the ground, where Klaus dug the saber into its spine, ending its miserable existence. Klaus felt something wet on his cheek. Blood maybe.

"She can't be real… She's dead…" He mumbled to himself, as he felt something wet on his other cheek. He wiped it, confused. Since when was his blood clear?

/

Legion swung the warhammer, ending the life of yet another demon. These demons were not like the ones he was used too. Unlike daemons, these were living, breathing creatures. They had dark energy within them however, and it was strange. He could see the dark energy coursing through their veins, in every drop of blood that he spilt. A blade connected to his armor, and he heard a grunt of surprise, as the blade failed to even make a scratch. Legion turned, swinging the hammer upward. A flaming head came off of the body, as it too was sent flying. Then, he heard an inhuman roar, followed by the sound of shattering earth and crumpling tiles. Legion turned, hefting the warhammer in his hand. He knew it was no ordinary warhammer. It could not have been even close. It was something far more sinister, yet necessary.

Not a warhammer, no, but a daemon weapon. A daemon weapon of the great betrayer, a name that even the chaos gods feared to speak, less to attract its filthy attention. The great betrayer, who's greatest trick was to fool the mortal realm that he did not exist. How the emperor even acquired such a weapon, was unknown.

The doomlord looked at him, roaring an insidious battlecry. Nearly fifty feet tall, it stood on two massive, furry, hooved feet. Black plated armor clung onto its frame, a massive sword held in its one hand. It snarled, a whip like tongue dragging against its serrated teeth.

"What are you… some sort of demon? If so… you certainly are powerful… I have known of no Mortal who can permanently kill a demon..." It growled in its demonic language. One of the gifts the emperor had given him was the ability to hear any language in high gothic. Another was for anything he spoke to be in the native language of others. Of course, no one else could hear him.

Legion merely pointed the hammer at the demon, a challenge. It roared, as it took several steps forward. Legion grasped the warhammer in his two hands, running to the demon with his warhammer pulled back.. The doomlord howled, swinging the sword. The massive blade sliced through the stone and tiles, which was where Legion once stood like it was nothing. Legion thought of what he wanted, as the warhammer, still clutched in his two hands, began to change and morph. A power sword formed in his hand, a black blade glinting menacingly at him, a bone white hilt showing in his hand. A plasma pistol formed in the other, fiery red energy seeping through the muzzle. He stabbed the power sword into the demons leg, and began to climb up. It snarled, as it swiped at him with its free hand. Legion yanked out the sword, and jumped to the other side of the demons furry leg, plunging the sword back in, continuing to climb up. The demon lord howled, swinging its feet, bringing down a balcony upon him. Legion himself out swung out of the way, as the tide of debris scythed through the air, narrowly missing him. Legion propelled himself forward once more, digging the flaming sword into the demon lords thing, as he grabbed a large spike sticking out of the demon's armor at its waist. The demon howled, snatching at him with its massive paw. Legion ducked, the blow heading over his head. He leaped from his position, snatching another spike, as he yanked himself upward, getting right to its collarbone. He jumped, slicing at the demons exposed neck. It howled, as a deep, burning line, was cut right under its mouth. It howled, as it collapsed to his knees. Legion rolled off of the demon, landing on the floor, as its mighty sword fell out of its hands, clattering to the ground. A green tide of poison washed over him, as one of the demons hooves smashed into the foul liquid of the sewers, splattering all over him. Legion stood back up, charging at the demon, who swung a clawed hand at him. He ducked, as he leaped at the demon's face, shoving the power sword into the side of its jaw. It howled, rising up in an instant, as Legion fired the plasma pistol in the other hand at its mouth. Fiery bolts of warp energy came through the barrel, ripping holes in not only the demon's throat, but its very soul itself. It fell to its knees, howling, as Legion put his armored boot on its lip, digging the sword within the demon's mouth, shoving it into the roof of its mouth, as with his other hand, he pointed the plasma pistol further down the roof of the mouth, calculating where the brain should be.

"Ave Imperator." Legion growled, as he fired the pistol. The demon screamed, as it was consumed by warp fire, which burned away at the skin, and soul itself. Utter destruction. Legion jumped off, and smashed into the ground, making a crater with his impact. He looked at the stunned faces of all of the warriors assembled, and nodded, sensing that he was no longer needed, as he began to fade away from reality. Warp fire consumed his vision, as he entered the warp once more.

/

As a Warchief, Thrall had seen many things in his career as Warchief, and many things that could be considered odd, or strange. What he had seen this day had taken the cake. He had seen Bluddflagg drink the blood of demons, and not even be affected by its poison. He had seen a cataclysmic storms erupt from virtually nowhere, and it certainly wasn't a natural one. He had seen the most complex weapon he had ever seen fire, and its bloody results. And now, he had seen what he thought was a Ghost, kill a Demon Lord. By itself. Thrall looked at the human with newfound respect. He had certainly earned a spot on Thrall's 'likeable' list.

"What was that?" Sylvanas asked, more of a demand then a question, at the human. He grinned slightly, still holding the glowing sword in his hand, his golden cannon strapped to his back.

"That was Legion. A conglomerate of the spirits of fallen warriors who pleaded for one final chance to serve the god emperor." He explained, though it left a lot of questions. Thrall shook his head, shaking himself out of it.

"Is that all, demon? Have you nothing left to throw at us?" He roared, though he knew he wouldn't get an answer.

"We come for you! Prepare yourself!" He shouted, as Sylvanas strutted forward, her ornate and rather painful looking bow in tow. (Hey that rhymes)

"The royal quarters are this way, warchief." Sylvanas said, as she began to lead the party forward. Thrall frowned, looking at what was left of the party. He had lost quite a few warriors this day, and he would never forget the sacrifices they made to claim the city. It was quite literally a charnel house at this point though. Bluddflagg and his 'krew' certainly knew how to fight, even though it was quite… brutal for his likes. Bluddflagg scratched his eyepatch with one finger, making a grating noise, as certain met with steel. They continued to walk, as they came across a hall.

"The royal quarters are just up ahead, warchief." Sylvanas said calmly. Thrall nodded, as he walked forward, but stopped, sensing a trap.

"Bring the halls down! NOW!" He heard Varimathras shout. He growled, twirling the warhammer in his hands. The hall shook, and Thrall struggled to keep balance, as stones fell from the ceiling, collapsing the hall. He growled in anger, regaining his composure.

"COWARD! You think to stop the Warchief of the Horde with pebbles? I will show you the true power of the elements!" Thrall shouted, as he called upon the spirits.

"Great spirit of the earth, help us in our hour of need!" He cried out, as the stones in the hall began to shake and crumble, as they were swallowed by a hole in the ground. He grinned, pointing at the royal quarters with his hammer.

"LET'S GO! QUICKLY!" He shouted, as the party came forward. As they entered the royal quarters, they slowed down. He could hear the human putting another sickle like object within his mighty cannon, pulling back a knob.

"What is this?" He growled, as Varimathras turned, grinning. His sickly white skin glowed like the moon, his taloned claws held in a placating gesture.

"Welcome to your future… what little there is left of it..." He muttered, as swirling vortexes began to open.

/

Klaus fired the bolter. He felt the kick on his shoulder, a shell being ejected from the gun, and a demon fell, dead. He was secretly worried about how much ammunition he had left. So far, he had used four clips of ammunition. There were thirty shells in each clip. So he could estimate he had at least killed fifteen demons for every clip. He shook his head, as a demon leaped at him, a massive spear in hand. His instincts took over, as he rolled out of the way, for the spear to dig into the ground. He fired the bolter, and the demon jerked back, a fist sized hole in the side of it ribs. He aimed higher, getting it at the collar bone. It erupted in an explosion of gore and bone, as it collapsed. It had been five minutes now, and it just wouldn't stop. He heard another orc cry out in pain, as a lucky blade slipped through their guard, clipping a large wound in their flimsy armor, and hearing their weapons collapse to the ground. Klaus realized that this may be his end. What a horrible end this would be. Come on, he deserved better than this shit! Invigorated by this thought, he pulled back the firing pin, ready for another demon to charge or stumble into the small pocket he had created amongst the melee.

"Too long… Tireless, endless planning… It will not end like this…" He heard the demon whisper. Klaus glanced at the demon through the crowd, who was still calling upon the dark powers, keeping the portals open. It was concentrated at seemingly nothing, as purple and green energy swirled around its clawed and taloned hands. One thought ran through his head. Kill. Klaus strided out of the confusing melee, as he began to unload at the demon. A purple shield of energy wrapped around the demon, and the bolt rounds exploded against it. It growled, looking at him. However, it did nothing, as it began to shudder.

"Need more time… The master is near…" It growled, as it seemed to be losing an invisible battle with an imaginary foe. Klaus fired another salvo of bolt rounds, as the shield exploded, sending shards of purple energy fading into the air. The demon growled, as the bolt shells dug into its armor. Klaus was surprised of how the bolt shells did not detonate. Clearly, that flimsy looking armor was far stronger then had anticipated. He pulled the trigger, only for it to click empty. Klaus reached into his sack, pulling out another bolt clip.

"I will not fail again!" It cried out. Oh, but it would. Klaus pulled back the firing pin, and fired another salvo. The demon snarled in pain, and collapsed to his knees, as he weakly tried to stop the bolt shells with dark magic, Some were sent into the ground, where it exploded, sending small shards of grey stone into the air. However, some hit their mark, detonating amongst its pale flesh. It did not do much damage then reveal the putrid flesh and muscle underneath.

"YOU HAVE FAILED ME, VARIMATHRAS!" A demonic voice roared, as the swirling purple portals began to close in on top of themselves. Some demons howled, as they were dragged back through the portal with green glowing chains and hooks.

"A thousand-thousand pardons, Master!" Varimathras cried, before it looked at him. It's black, soulless eyes zoomed up on him, and a deadly grin split across its corpse pale face, revealing pointed fangs.

"I will deal with these intruders… myself…" It growled, as it leaped at him. Klaus had virtually no time to react, as the demon swung a massive paw at him. His lungs were emptied of breath, as he was sent flying. He landed onto the ground with a hard thump, and he felt something snap within his chest, as his body rolled on the ground. The bolter skidded out of his hand, the machine spirit infuriated with its miscare. Klaus coughed, reaching for the bolter. He grabbed it by the handle, and began to rise himself up, as the demon struck again. Massive, hooked and barbed talons swung. It was more of luck then skill that he lost his footing, the talons going over his head. He fired, the recoil of the bolter knocking him flat on his ass. The demon hissed, as the bolt shell detonated on its spiked shoulder pauldron. It took several steps back, before it cried out in pain. Klaus watched as the demon was slowly raised off of the ground, three crackling prongs sticking out of its body.

"Dats enuff of da oomie…" Bluddflagg grinned, as with his other hand, it creeped down the demons back. It let out a howl of pain, as Bluddflagg yanked down. Klaus watched in morbid fascination as Bluddflagg yanked harder and harder, only for the demons head to disappear. Bluddflagg dropped the corpse, holding up the horned head of Varimathras. It let out a scream, as its skin quickly was consumed by what appeared to be bats. The skull and spine was all that was left, as the pieces of Varimathras's armor clattered to the ground. Klaus rose himself up, clutching his ribs. He winched, as fiery pain flared in his chest.

"Mog Osh'kazil gul'rok il mog Ro'th zaga maza TOV'OSH!" Thrall shouted in the foul orcish language. Klaus suddenly had an epiphany. The demons were done for, at least for now. So why doesn't he kill the xeno scum, and then return to finish his business in Darnassus? It was then when he had heard horns. They were not the horns of xenos.

"Alliance horns? Stay on guard!" Thrall shouted. Klaus raised an eyebrow. The Alliance? Here? This would prove to be interesting, and if a fight were to break out, he would know what side he would be on.

/

Angry. Undisciplined. Armed. These were three thoughts that ran through Lofn's head as watched the so called king of humanity, Varian Wrynn, stomp forward, a strange looking sword in hand. He was wearing plated battlearmor, which covered his entire form, a steel lion snarling on his shoulder pads. Two dual blades were held in each hand, seemingly identical, with a glowing core at the center of the blade. They were gripped well in his gloved hands, a testament to the king's skill, most likely. A furred cloak drooped from his shoulders, dragging on the dirty floor. An eagle is emblazoned on his breastplate. A line of scars run underneath his eyes, from cheek to cheek. Behind him are around twenty warriors, dressed in similar accord, each clutching their own weapons. Lofn reached out with her mind, reading his thoughts. Anger. Vengeance. Glory. These thoughts ran through his head like children, jumping and running all around.

"I was away for too long. My absence cost us the lives of some of our greatest heroes. Trash like you and this evil witch are allowed to roam free. Unchecked." Varian growled, pointed his blade directly at Thrall. The warchief did not seem to be impressed, still holding his warhammer in his hand. Klaus grunted beside her. She spared him a look, glancing back at Varian. Maybe he was more impressed then she was. Or disappointed.

"The time has come to make things right. To disband your treacherous kingdom of murderers and thieves. Putress was the first strike. Many more will come."

Lofn was yet again confused. She was completely out of loop of what was happening, but clearly, something had happened between the Alliance and Horde, and Varian was to sort it out. It made enough sense to her.

"I've waited a long time for this, Thrall. For every time I was thrown into one of your damned arenas… for every time I killed a greenskin aberration like you… I could only think of one thing."

Lofn too wondered what the universe would be like without orks. They were worse then humans in her opinion, though not nearly as bad as Necrons were, in her opinion. Their savage ways, and thirst for war would do quite a lot of harm here and there, should they gather in too large numbers.

"What our world could be without you and your twisted Horde. It ends now, Warchief." Varina growled, as he put himself in a fighting stance, something that the others quickly copied.

"Ceiba-ny-shak…" She muttered, as she twirled the force staff in her hand. Klaus pulled the firing pin back on his bolter, and Bluddflagg snapped his claw open and shut, and she couldn't help but notice the new trophy on his back. She stuck out her hands, blocking them both. Of course, Bluddflagg was large enough to merely walk past or through it, and Klaus would not be stopped by her so easily. But it was not the action, but the meaning that stopped them. It wasn't their problem. The two lines charged, and clashed, when suddenly they froze. Literally. Lofn opened her eyes wide in surprise, and even Klaus and Bluddflagg grunted in surprise. Ice blocks had formed where the combatants were. Klaus took a few steps forward.

"Jaina?" He asked, clearly in surprise.

"Klaus?" a woman's voice said, also surprised. Lofn sighed, rubbing her face. Of course.

Review Time (fuck theirs a lot)

Mr. Obama: Its not as signfigant as you think it is, but I will let you guess :)

Yami-Guy: Yes, Logic and Death Korps do not mix, and yes, I am aware. However, when the COMMISSARS (You know, the guys that SHOOT others if they run away, or look at the Commissar the wrong way) are the voice of reason in the unit, I think it goes a bit too far. Yes, they are all brainwashed to serve superiors, but I personally find it to be a bit too much.

LemanRust: I try to keep things as cannon as humanly possible. However, because Low Gothic is a blend of Brazilian, English, German, and other things, and emperor knows what the hell high gothic is, this is another thing that varies from cannon. Do note I am sorry if I triggered you because of this, but truly, this shows that I am a lazy bastard when it comes to certain things.

Guest and SpecH82: Ill let you two figure this out in the reviews...

rc48177: Nothing in the 41st millennium is easy. (Except for blamming people, and fighting Tau in melee.)

Tenash: Thank you very much :)

RedRat8: The relationship between Bluddflagg and Klaus will change through time, though its not going far.

Deathwatch Razgriz: Here's one. Still got one more to do.

TheLazyHaiku: Spookums for tech support 2016

Commissar Carl: This may or may not be in the story at a later time...


	44. Chapter 44: The Daemon Within

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

Here is a new chapter.

Cant say much, I'm too tired...

Anyways, enjoy.

Nebetaruk couldnt felt the wind blow against his metal skin, but for once, he felt calm. He took a deep, false breath. Of course, no air was sucked into where he once had lungs, but, it was close enough. His warscythe was still clutched in one of his hands, as he began to march ahead of the army. Adventurers, Mercenaries, and Soldiers were behind him, each well trained and well armed. His robes didn't feel nearly as regal enough, and he felt like it was something he should fix. He glanced at Spookums and Mista Nailbrain, who were at his side. Maybe it wasn't the greatest idea to keep both of the orks here, but he assured himself it was for the better. Mista Nailbrain had been working on a new version of his so called 'Bouncy Field' which could be transmitted onto others. How it worked, he didn't know. That was the strange thing about Mista Nailbrain and his so called technology. They have virtually no right to work. Yet they do, and it exceeds expectations. Expectations of course, being that it even worked to begin with.

He also needed Spookums for target assassination. His 'knife' would prove to be effective, and he had an uncanny skill for sneaking around. Nebetaruk continued to march up the road, passing the bloodstained fields and grass. Bodies hung from trees, where foul worship and sacrifices had happened.

"Spookums. Go ahead, and find out an intel on the enemy position as it is. We will reclaim the tradesman terrace." Nebetaruk ordered. Spookums nodded, as he walked into the bushes, and disappeared. Nebetaruk struggled to even find the ork, and still failed. He grinned mentally, looking back at the road, and continued to walk. They soon came across the gates of the tradesmen terrace. He could hear hushed whispers behind him, as they looked upon the carnage that was the terrace. Corpses were everywhere, mouths open, screaming quietly. Most were cut open like livestock, their guts and organs ripped out and placed in elaborate patterns. In the center of the terrace, there was a tall shrine. Nebetaruk pointed the warscythe at the shrine, and Mista Nailbrain grinned, taking out a Rokkit, twisting it onto the ignition prong. He fired. The rokkit zoomed out and twirled in spirals, letting out an ear piercing screech, as it slammed into the shrine, detonating it into pieces.

"KIILLLL THE INTRUUUDEERRRSSS…" A malignant voice hissed, as a thin red fog began to creep out from the ruined cabins. Nebetaruk heard an inhuman howl, and he swung his warscythe without a second thought, bisecting a Blood Letter. The demon let out a roar, as it was consumed in flame.

"AMBUSH!" He roared, as demons and cultists burst from the cabins, the trees and bushes. Mista Nailbrain howled in surprise, as a torrent of red flame erupted from his gun, coating an unfortunate enemy in flame. Nebetaruk swung his staff, stabbing a cultist, and flung it away. The body hit the ground, and Nebetaruk was already on the move. He swung the scythe downward, cutting off a daemons legs where it stood, as he continued to rip the foe from piece to piece. As he fought, he could feel the Tesseract Labyrinth shake and quiver within his robes. The Nightbringer wanted death. It wanted slaughter. It wanted to kill. Nebetaruk muttered a curse in his native tongue, as he continued to slay. He may have to do something he would not like in the far future.

/

The daemon growled in anger, as it watched the assault on the so called world tree fail. Again. The defenders had been quite a thorn in its side, and were very stubborn, and annoying to deal with. Many of its brethren had been felled by the defenders, and it was losing quite a few cultists. They were expendable though, so it didn't worry too much about that. But what it worried about was the master. If he found out how the operation was going… things would get bad. Very bad. As if the deceiver heard it worry itself, a slave started to squeal, as its white eyes rolled into the back of its head, as the daemon could sense the master temporarily taking control. It cringed, as the slave then looked at the book it was trapped in.

"You truly are a disappointment… Vo'ndrath the Gazer…" The sorcerer within grumbled. Vo'ndrath hissed, feeling invisible chains clamping around him, burning his ethereal skin. A daemon's true name was something to be valued and kept well hidden, as if someone knew a daemons true name, it held quite a lot of power over the daemon. Mortal, Daemon, it did not matter who knew it. They could be banished beyond the warp, a fate far worse than death, or bound into a daemon weapon… or worse...

"The defenderssss of the world tree willlll fallllll… you willlll be broughtttt into this realmmmm... master… I swearrr it." Vo'ndrath muttered. To this, the sorcerer merely chuckled.

"You better. I do not have much tolerance for failures such as yourself… but you have proved yourself worthy of a… boost." The sorcerer said. Vo'ndrath groaned, a groan filled with ecstasy and pleasure, as it could feel the ethereal chains that bound him to its prison slip, and then finally. Shatter.

Vo'ndrath howled, as it was freed. A horrible screech that sounded like forks against plates, only amplified entered the air, sending the daemons nearby in a frenzy, gibbering madly. He was engulfed in tendrils of warp energy, as his form bucked and kicked, danced and weaved in front of those who watched. Vo'ndrath floated down to the ground, feeling its toes touch the soft grass. A fiery staff appeared in its hand, and it clutched it appreciatively.

"Now… lay siege to Teldrassil… kill the defenders... sacrifice what remains of the tree… open the daemon portal…and you shall be rewarded beyond imagination…" The slave said, as the sorcerer left the body of the slave. Vo'ndrath growled, as it turned around, looking at the mighty world tree in the distance. It's claws tapped against the warp forged metal of its staff, and it grinned wolfishly.

"Doooo nottt worrrry masterrrr… I have foreseeeeeen the futureee. Nothing can stop meee…" Vo'ndrath mumbled, as it began to take steps forward. It waved its staff in the air, as a temporary portal opened, ripping a hole in the fabric of the materium itself. The portal did not have the strength to summon the master, but it could summon minions. Furies, Bloodletters, Plaguebearers, Horrors, Daemonettes came out, as Vo'ndrath binded them to its will. Satisfied with its new army, Vo'ndrath led the daemon army to Teldrassil. It would not fail. No one could stop it.

/

Landuen Moonclaw swung the glaive, bisecting another fiery red beast. It howled in anger, as it was quickly consumed by red flame, leaving nothing.

"Hold fast! Elune preserve us, we will hold!" He shouted, as a ten foot shambling mess roared at him, carrying a dirty and contagious knife in its hand. It seemed almost happy, as it swung the blade clumsily at him, trying to decapitate him in one blow. Landuen rolled out of the way, as he struck the creature at the knee, bringing it down low. It hissed, as it tried to stab him. He dodged, as he made a deep cut at the creature's neck. It hissed, as its neck yawned open, sinew and strings of flesh snapping, as its head peeled back, and fell off. It was a desperate last stand, as what was left of the kaldorei army held off the armies of these foul creatures. Where they appeared, no one was sure. How they driven out nearly all of the kaldorei in only a scant few days, was also unknown. But Landuen knew one thing for sure. They were certainly evil. They were foul creatures, coming in a variety of shapes and forms. In addition, they had done something to those who had been captured. Insanity was putting it lightly, of what happened to his friends and family. They could not be talked to, could not be reasoned. They could only be slain.

"The enemy will fail!" He shouted, as another creature rushed at him, a gibbering mess of pink flesh. It seemed to be laughing, as dark energy conjured in its hands, and it flung out. Landuen ducked, but realised that he wasn't the intended target. He watched helplessly as a druid screamed in pain, as he was utterly ripped to pieces by the flurry of magic bolts. Landuen let out a warcry, slicing off the creature's shifting arm. It only laughed, as it swiped with its other arm. The blow smacked onto his armor, but it didn't do much then push him back. It seemed that each of the creatures had their own weakness. The red ones, who were quickly called Slayers, seemed to have an affinity of close combat, and as so, were vulnerable at range. Though not completely vulnerable he noted, as a Slayer disappeared in red fire, reappearing at his side. Landuen finished off the pink creature, who he personally called Horrors, turning to fight the Slayer. Landuen then shouted in pain, as a blade was shoved through his armor. He collapsed to his knees, making the wound even worse. The fiery blade was impossibly sharp, and it was pure agony. But the creature did not seem to kill him. As a matter of fact, the creature left, howling.

"FALL BACK! FALL BACK!" Landuen heard someone shout. What was left of the night elves fell back to the Temple of the Moon, an Ancient of Lore covering the retreat. A ring of the creatures formed around him, and he coughed, blood coming out from his lips.

"Finish me… you dogs…" He muttered, as he tried to reach for his blade, which had fallen out of his hands. But he could not move. It was like he was paralysed.

"You haveeee been quite a pain toooo deal with…." A voice muttered from behind him, as the creature revealed itself. Landuen cringed, realising that this would be the last sight before he would die. It was a raven like creature, standing nearly ten feet tall. Shifting pink flesh covered its frame, white robes covering certain parts of its body. Gold and bronze swirls were found on the robes. It looked like faces were in the creature skin, constantly changing and swirling on its skin. A staff was gripped in a hand, a blue flame at the tip, another pair of arms was holding a large tome. Gemstones were embedded in the staff's shaft, as Landuen glanced back at the creature. Two violet eyes looked at him, a pointed, obsidian black beak threatening to poke him.

"Sooo much... POWER... Why donttt you jjoin uss?" It asked, as the creatures around it howled, letting out unholy curses.

"Never… I will never submit…" He muttered.

"A pittyyy…" It muttered. Landuen closed his eyes, ready for his deathblow. But it did not come. Instead, he heard the shuffle of feet moving away, dark whispers coming from their mouths. Landuen opened his eyes, only to realise that they had left him. He tried to move, but he could not. With roaring anger, Landuen realised what they had done. They were going to leave him to bleed out. To die.

"YOU COWARD! FINISH ME!" He roared, but his plea would not be answered. At least by them.

"Ooo dun wurry lad. Dis un hurt a bit… but furst, woi dun ya tell me everyfing ya know?" A voice asked, a cold circle being pressed against the back of his head.

/

Orks were good at two things. Stabbing, and Shooting. Three, if you count drinking. Similar to being Brutal Cunning or Cunningly Brutal, it was impossible to be both good at Stabbing, and good at Shooting. Less the fabric of reality simply tear apart, due to the level of orkiness being over safe limits Some orks choose to be the embodiment of stab, while others choose to be the embodiment of shoot.

"DAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKA!" Mista Nailbrain hollered, as he unloaded a full clip of ammunition into a Plaguebearer. It hissed, as the rounds ripped it's torso to pieces, though it still stood. Somewhat. Frustrated, Mista Nailbrain grabbed the barrel of his kustom shoota, jumped as high as he could, and swung it like a bat. It cracked against the plaguebearer's jaw, snapping its neck. The Plaguebearer fell to the ground, as Mista Nailbrain took out another clip of ammunition, shoving it into the shoota, pulling back the firing pin. Mista Nailbrain didn't really have too much worry about ammunition, as he could always make more. He certainly wasn't running out of materials any time soon. Mista Nailbrain scanned the ruined village, his cybork eye scanning for critical targets. He was rewarded for his patience, as a Blood Letter was finished murdering a stunty, turning its domed, crimson head at him. Suddenly, a green blade was shoved through its chest. The daemon failed and writhed, as it was raised into the air. The blade that held it was thrown aside, where the daemon quickly turned into embers.

"Oi! Dat was moi kill!" Mista Nailbrain snarled, sending a quick burst of rounds at the Necron to punctuate his point. The Necron did not seem troubled about the rounds that smashed against its chest, as a bright field of green lightning surrounded it like a shield, sizzling several charging daemons.

"Focus." It growled, as it swiped the warscythe low, tripping a Blood Letter, before shoving the warscythe in its neck, ending its snarls.

"Don't ya tell me ta focus ya walkin tin kan!" Mista Nailbrain snarled, shooting a quick rokkit at a shifting horror, resulting in a detonating firework of warp flame. He grinned, as he kept firing into the mob, shooting any daemon he could find.

"Do not take it that way." The Necron said, as they were suddenly pressed rather uncomfortably close by a shift in the mob. They were nearly back to back, as they continued to fight and kill.

"I'll take it da which way I zoggin want. Dat wuz moine! Now, shut da zog up, for I shuv me boot in yer arse." Mista Nailbrain snarled, shooting a quick puff of flame, incinerating a cultist.

"I no longer have a rectum, as it is unnecessary." The Necron merely said, blocking a clumsy blow from a Plaguebearer, before impaling it in the eye with the butt of the scythe.

"OOO yoo! Ya gave ma da rong zoggin image in me 'ead!" He growled, shivering, as he was currently beating a cultist to death with the butt of his Shoota, along with throwing in a good kick every now and then. He did not want to think about that horrible thought.

"That method is not efficient in killing." The Necron pointed out.

"Well yer a zoggin smartass." Mista Nailbrain snarled back. The Necron shrugged, as he snatched a cultist by the neck, and smashed it down on its knee, breaking its spine with an audible crack. The whole body bent at a 90 degree angle, as the Necron flipped the body off.

"This is more efficient, if you want to use your hands." The Necron said. Mista Nailbrain scoffed, as he continued to kick the cultist with his squig hide boots. Who the zog was it to criticize how he killed?

"Go take a stikkbomb, and shuv it up yer arse." Mista Nailbrain snarled.

"I thought I reminded you, I do not have a-"

"OH ZOGGIN 'ELL JUST...ARG!" He squealed, as he caved in the cultists skull, unloading a random salvo of gunfire in his anger and confusion.

"YOO KNOW WOT I ZOGGIN MEAN!" He shouted finally, still trying to get his senses.

/

Vo'ndrath breathed in the wispy air in delight, and shivered in satisfaction, as the daemon took several steps, its clawed hands rubbing against the wood of the world tree affectionately. Yes. It would serve the master well. The energy within was faint, yes. But it would be more than enough

"Ssseecureee the perimeterrrr…" It hissed, turning around, facing the rest of the army. The cultists nodded, as they began to goad the daemons forward away from the master, with varying amounts of success, from actually getting them to move, from the daemons from simply killing them.

"MASTER… THE ENEMY HAS TAKEN… THE TRADESMEN TERRACE… THEY MARCH CLOSER…" A Blood Letter growled, clearly in dislike. Vo'ndrath chuckled, turning to the daemon of Khorne.

"Then sssstop them…" Vo'ndrath hissed, also in dislike. The filthy servants of Khorne, Nurgle, and Slaanesh never appeased it in their uses. They were so… dull, though they did have their uses. Somewhat.

"THE METAL ONES ARE HERE…" It snarled in anger, its hands shaking the hellblade in its hand with quivering anticipation. Vo'ndrath snorted.

"Then deal with it. Blood for the Blood god, yessss?" Vo'ndrath sneered. The Blood Letter growled.

"WHEN THE MASTER COMES… YOU WILL BE PUNISHED… FOR YOUR INSOLENCE." It snarled. Vo'ndrath grunted in surprise, and then grinned. It pointed its staff at the Blood Letter, and it hissed in both pain and anger, as the staff gently touched its skin, making a small brand.

"We will seee about that….. Now, deal with the isssueee… I shall prepare the ritual…" Vo'ndrath hissed, turning to look up at the mighty tree. It could feel many spirits, many souls in and around the world tree. They would power the warp gate. They would power Vo'ndrath. It began to channel them within itself. It could hear ethereal screams, as it began to draw in souls and consume them, each slowly adding onto it reservoirs of power.

"Yesss…. Yesss…" It said, as it began to channel the power vested within itself, and began to very slowly, but surely, open the warp gate. A small, tiny, unseeable hole was ripped open, and slowly it grew in size. Vo'ndrath would need time, and would need protection. The hole closed, as he opened a much larger, yet much weaker warpgate. A hissing, metal monstosity came through. Nearly five feet tall, and ten feet wide, it was a beast that only knew war, and blood. A juggernaut. And on top, was a Blood Letter. Its jetblack horns were covered in brass rings, a small network of skulls webbed between the two horns. A fiery hellblade was clutched in one hand, while the other holded on valiantly to the kicking and shaking beast.

"You, serve, ME." Vo'ndrath hissed, as he branded the rider, making it serve its will. The Juggernaut howled, staring at Vo'ndrath.

"I SERVE KHORNE. NOT YOU…" The Blood Letter snarled, goading the Juggernaut slightly forward.

"Khorne cannot protect you here, worrrm." Vo'ndrath retorted, getting an angry snarl from the Bloodletter and Juggernaut.

"Now go, Bloodcrusher. Crush the enemy. Sssssacrifice them. For Chaossss." Vo'ndrath commanded. The Juggernaut howled, as it lumbered away, eager for bloodshed. Vo'ndrath chuckled lightly, turning back to the roots of the world tree. With one clawed finger, it made the eight pointed star of chaos in a thick root. The bone carved away in the wood of the tree, and it could practically feel the energy within bubbling with its unholy touch. Vo'ndrath chuckled, as it prepared to do the ritual. Vo'ndrath was so focused on the ritual, it did not notice the sounds of proximity mines being carefully placed, or the soft sound of poison being rubbed on a blade.

/

"Take steps forward! DO NOT TAKE STEPS BACK!" Nebetaruk howled, swinging the blade, ending the life of a pathetic Plague Bearer. He swung the warscythe, cutting off the plague bearers head so fast that it was still on its neck. He shoved the body aside, as it tumbled into the water, further ruining it with its foul contagions, as the body slowly disappeared, burning away violently.

"Oi! Tin Kan! Da boyz fink it wuld be a gud idea ta do sum flankin maneuvas!" Mista Nailbrain shouted from behind him. Nebetaruk would raise an eyebrow if he could. He remembered fighting orks. They were incredibly dull and stupid, yet somehow were capapble of some learning. How did it know basic tactics? He shook himself out of it. Do not question it, just go with it.

"Very well. Take what is left and secure the temple of the moon. I will go to Teldrassil, and end this myself." Nebetaruk growled. The ork seemed surprised, before growling, shaking its head.

"Ya aint stealin me zoggin kills again yoo!" He snarled, looking back at the remnants of the raiding party.

"Oi! Ya twats! Get da Temple of da Moon cleaned up of daemon skum, and den meet us at da big tree fing, ya hippies!" He shouted, before turning around, shoving a clip of ammunition into his gun.

"Alroight. Letsa go!" He growled, as the two continued to walk forward. The temple gardens were a ruined mess. Most of the trees were scarred and burned, their branches clean of leaves. The vegetation was bare, and most of it had been burned. The dark waters were a sickly shade of red and purple. It reeked of the warp here, a thin red mist seeping from the ground and the air. The two looked around, soaking up the view, with two varying opinions of how it looked.

"Dam. Dese tree huggas got a fing fer trees, dont dey?" Mista Nailbrain said aloud, scratching his beady red eye.

"It appears so." Nebetaruk mumbled. He too, did not know why the kaldorei were so obsessed with nature. They would be much better off cutting down the forests for lumber, to fuel the fires of industry.

"Oi. Hold up." Mista Nailbrain growled, as he pulled back the firing pin of his shoota. Sensing trouble, Nebetaruk clutched his warscythe in his two hands, holding it like a spear. The two looked around each other, as suddenly, they heard a demonic roar.

"Oh." Mista Nailbrain said cryptically, fear creeping onto his face. Nebetaruk could feel the tesseract labyrinth clink and clatter in his robes, shaking in anticipation.

"Zog." He finished, as a roaring creature came down the road, charging with blinding speed. Nebetaruk activated the phase shifter, as he faded out of the material realm partially, as the roaring beast charged, going right through him, knocking Mista Nailbrain aside. He had activated his so called bouncy shield, which saved his life, but sent him flying. Like a launched grenade, Mista Nailbrain was sent dozens of feet in the air, landing in the disgusting waters nearly two hundred feet away. Nebetaruk phased back into the mortal realm, as the demonic creature turned to face him, snarling. Its rider, a Blood Letter snarled at him, waving its fiery blade in the air. Its mount, a putrid combination of machine and flesh howled, kicking and bucking wildly. Steam vented from cracks and fissures in its metal skin, its eyes alight with fire and madness. Blood had coated its hooves and the two horns on its head, judging that it had already killed something.

"BLOOOOOOOOD FOR THE BLOOOODDD GGGGGOOOOOOOODDDDDDDD!" The Daemon roared, as the beast charged. Nebetaruk leaped into the air, twirling his warscythe, as gravity tugged him down. The Blood Letter rose its blade, and the two blades met. Ancient, warpforged metal met equally ancient starforged steel, as the wielders snarled in anger and loathing, as their blades continued to meet. Each swing was masterfully blocked by the other, as the two ancient warriors traded blow for blow. The beast below snapped at his ankles, trying to impale him with its massive, spiked horn. Nebetaruk ducked under a decapitating blow, crouching down, shoving the fractal edged blade deep within the beast's chest. It howled in anger, as it tried to trample him. The rider swung the hellblade in fury, but Nebetaruk ducked underneath the blow, the blade making a trail of fire in the air. Using the Lightning field, he shocked the beast, coating it fields of electricity, which caused the rider to back its mount away, somehow. It was very clear that the creature did not want to give up so easily, but it seemed that the master would not listen to its pleas.

"I have fought beasts better than you." Nebetaruk taunted, clutching the warscythe with his two hands, pointing the fractal blade to the daemon. It howled in anger, as warpfire seeped from the wound in its mount.

"I WILLLL SLAY YOUUUU. THE MASTER WILLL BE PLEASSSEED…" It growled, though strangely, it did not want to come forward.

"Khorne cannot save you, mongrel." Nebetaruk retorted. The beast howled, as it rose up on two legs, kicking forward with the other two. Suddenly, it screeched, lurching forward.

"Eat rokkit!" Nebetaruk heard from behind the daemon, and it soon revealed the mek, who was covered in muck and dirt, his shoota still clutched in his hand, shoving another rokkit into his gun, as he fired again. The rokkit twirled and screech, knocking the rider straight from the beast it rode. Nebetaruk took his chance, and charged at the beast, swinging it in a decapitation like fashion. The fractal edged blade slices right through its neck, and the beast let an unholy roar of pain and anger, as it was consumed in flames, utterly obliterated. The Blood Letter that rode it was quickly dispatched in a similar fashion.

"Dat counts as moine!" Mista Nailbrain said, grinning from ear to ear, putting the shoota on his shoulder, letting it rest. He quite literally looked like shit, and the trails of green slime that coated his legs and boots left little for imagination. His face was completely covered in soot and ashes, the only things that were not covered in ashes being his one remaining eye, which twitched in irritation. Mista Nailbrain rubbed his face, covering his hands in soot.

"Very well. This counts as yours. Now we must hurry." Nebetaruk mumbled, as they turned back to the massive world tree. Mista Nailbrain squinted, furrowing his only eyebrow, peering at something in the distance.

"Roight. Dey's up dere." Mista Nailbrain grumbled, as he began to walk forward. Nebetaruk followed, feeling the tesseract labyrinth click and clatter against him, making a soft thumping noise. The beast within wanted to be free, and not much could stop it when it came loose.

/

"You better have a good explanation of what you were doing there." Jaina mumbled, a mix of anger and interest in her voice, as she turned around. It would have been quite a comical scene, if not for the situation. Klaus chuckled lightly, one hand clutched on the bandages on his chest, the red stained parchment glaring back at him in the purple and orange glow of the sunset by the sea. Bluddflagg and Lofn sat beside him, and they had each received their fair amount of wounds. Bluddflagg had nearly lost his arm, but he didn't seem to mind the massive amount of surgical stitches all around the joint of his left arm. In addition, a new layer of scars had been formed over the previous foundation, though one scar interested Klaus in particular. It festered in a swirling vortex of green and black, oozing black pus. It certainly seemed infected, but Bluddflagg didn't notice the wound in his chest. He was currently drinking a large mug of grog, the brown fluid dripping viciously down his chin, making a small puddle at his boots. Lofn wasn't as badly wounded, though it appeared that she didn't like to use her right arm. Overall, with the amount of enemies he was facing, he could have received far worse. A few broken bones and some bruising was nothing to sniff at for sure, but he would be damned if he let that keep him down. Focusing back to reality, he noticed that all three of them were looking directly at him. He sighed, rubbing his face. Frakk, he was tired.

"Kaptin Bluddflagg here." He said, gesturing to the ork freeboota, before continuing. "Owed the so called, Forsaken, a favor. In short, he took us with him to ensure the job was done… well…" He explained, though this was far from the truth, he could care less.

"Freeboota?" Jaina asked, slightly confused. Bluddflagg grinned, leaning forward.

"Heh Heh, Freeboota! Ya get ta boot gits, and itz zoggin free! Its a play of words, ya know?" He said, leaning back in the massive chair he had received, though Klaus could hear it creak and groan under his weight. This did not seem to soothe Jaina's interest. If anything, it made things worse. Klaus decided that if the ork could not provide something as simple as an explanation, there was no reason he could be called 'kaptin'.

"A freeboota is essentially, an ork corsair. They roam the stars like predatory beasts, living in their ramshackle jun piles they call spaceships, waging war on the innocent, butchering them, and plundering their riches in order to soothe their urges of bloodshed and conquest." Klaus explained. Bluddflagg huffed.

"Yeah. Sumfin loike dat." He mumbled, taking another swig of brew.

"Spaceships?" Jaina said, wide eyed. This earned her a pair of confused glances.

"Ya. Spaceships. Kroozas. Ya know? Da big ships dat be in sphess, roamin round?" Bluddflagg asked, trying to add on what he had said previously. Jaina seemed to be confused.

"The only ones that I know of who are capable of such travel is the draenei, and even then, their ship has been broken beyond repair, though still functional." She pointed out. Bluddflagg lit up like a child on emperors day, and both Lofn and Klaus eye's widened in realization at the situation that had just happened. Not only had Jaina tell Bluddflagg that their was a husk of a spaceship here, but that it was still somewhat functional. However, Bluddflagg seemed to have squelched his excitement, smiling coyly.

"Interestin." He mumbled, his voice barely a whisper, splitting a sadistic grin on his face from ear to raggedy ear. Most people would have been unnerved, or downright scared by the menacing smile he showed, adding on the obsidian black metal that jutted out in front of his dull white teeth. Jaina didn't seemed to be bothered by the act, an action that made Klaus's respect for the psyker go up a little.

"However, this cannot explain what you have done at the Undercity and Darnassus. You have made quite the political upheaval, you three know that right?" She asked humoredly, as she glanced back at Klaus.

"The Gnomes are practically drooling at the technology they have seen so far from you. " She mumbled accusingly, pointing a finger directly at the bolter on his shoulder.

"Especially of your 'lasgun'" She said, putting up her fingers, quoting lasgun, before continuing.

"The Dwarves, especially the Explorers League, are tumbling head over heels to find your so called 'Lord of Metal' and squeeze out every bit of information they can out of… it." She added on. Bluddflagg snorted, a puff of air going through his ringed nostrils.

"The Kingdom of Stormwind is very interested in finding the so called 'Traitor' among the ranks of the horde." She continued, which got Klaus to stiffen involuntarily. Calming himself, telling himself that it was merely something of situation, and that he was no traitor or heretic, he calmed down, though he couldn't help but notice the concerned look he had got from both Lofn and Jaina. They then stared at each other for a few moments, before Lofn slumped back, blowing a huff of air at her hair, which was currently attacking her eyes.

"The draenei want to meet all of you in hopes you can help them reconstructing the Exodar, and your so called 'ruinous powers' are giving the kaldorei absolute hell, and they cry out for vengeance for an enemy they have never met." She said, before she sighed, leaning forward.

"So… we're going to have a LONG… talk." She growled. Klaus raised an eyebrow, while Bluddflagg merely snorted.

"OOOOOO, ya hear dat lads? Da git in da purple dress is gunna ask us questions. Hold on to ya pants and ta ya wallet, cuz she's gunna steal dem both, and den take in da view." Bluddflagg grinned teasingly, slamming the Powa Klaw onto the table with just enough force to make a visible crack. Bluddflagg didn't even have enough time to say anything before he became a solid ice block. His face was in a frozen look of surprise within the layers of ice. Klaus glanced back at Jaina, who still had her staff in hand. Where she even had it to begin with was unknown, but she would have been a fool to not bring a weapon when in a room with an ork, less she was simply that suicidal.

"Perhaps it would be easier to just… show you why we are here…" Lofn said cryptically, as her eyes flared blue. Klaus poked at the bandages on his chest, simply anything to keep the mumbling psykers words out of his head.

(Quick Authors note)

(I know some people are cross that I made Klaus a bit too emotional in the last chapter. Know it was completely intentional.

Their is a very. Very. VERY. Important reason why this happened, and may continue to happen, but you guys will find out later.

As in I dont want to be more of a dick then I am, and ruin the storyline.)

Review Time

Deathwatch Razgriz: MOAR!

Imperial Warlord: Thnx.

Guest: We will find out what ties the Burning Legion and the Ruinous Powers have, but know one thing. One is sure as hell aint happy to see the other.

Guest: Its what they imply in some texts at least.

ArchMagos: See authors note (Sides, if you dont like the story. Dont fucking read it)

CommisarCarl: Oh he will get it back alright. Hes not gonna like how he gets it back.

Guest: I can confirm Bluddflagg is going to have some beef with an alliance leader. Ever heard of pick on someone your own size?

Rouge50: its what they imply in cannon at least, and what they use as an example (Ave Imperator, for example) but we really dont know what the fuck they are saying.

MetalGearMantis: Hey man, its been awhile! Anyways, I dont want to say too much about Nebetaruk and his past, though the chapter when we learn more about his past, and who he truly once was, will be coming either next chapter or the chapter after that.

Tenash: Well, thats if she can catch them first ;)

rc48177: Frigid Bitch was in the alliance questline of the undercity, and was the reason why Thrall and Varian didnt kill each other right then and there.

The Mexican Taco Overlord: Never watched Private Ryan myself (Que movie fan's being triggered to levels never before reached.)

RedRat8: Legion is probably one of those characters we will rarely see, as he/it seems pretty comfortable chilling in the warp (or twisting nether), though what he/it is doing in there is a mystery. For now...


	45. Chapter 45: Silence

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here

So here is the next chapter. I apologize for this one being late, I was very busy this weekend.

And also in a rush to get this out, so I have a feeling i may have left a section out.

Darkness. It was all Jaina could see. Darkness, and the laughing of mad, and insane gods. They laughed and jeered at her, saying insults and rude words. She tried to say something. Anything to make them stop. But she was mute. It was like someone had bolted her mouth shut.

"Do you see?" A voice asked, distant and faint, yet soft and comforting. The world changed around her. Jaina looked around, taking the view with her own eyes. In the distance, she could see a battle unfolding. Thousands of warriors, weapons clashing with what she realised was the undead. At at the spearhead of the assault, was the lich king. Was Arthas. Frostmourne, his runeblade, was soaked in the ichor of enemies, and with every batch of warriors slain, he only grew stronger, faster, and harder.

"A war on the living, turned and riled up by the dead." The voice mumbled, as Jaina could see towering abominations wade into the ranks of men, scattering them like marbles. Mighty Frost Wyrms, breathing sheets of ice onto the living, freezing them utterly, making them slowly die from the cold temperature. Clicking Nerubians weaved through the thick mobs, their talons rending and cleaving through them. Jaina could only watch in horror as slowly, yet surely, the army of the living were ripped to utter pieces. The last footman fell, a skeleton digging a blade into his shoulder, ending his life.

"This would have been your fate. The fate of all living creatures. We had foreseen it." The voice muttered. Jaina glanced back at the ruins of the battle, as tendrils of necrotic energy began to wrap around the bodies that were still somewhat intact. Their blank, milky eyes glowed with unholy energy, as they rose up. Farmers. Soldiers. Parents. None were spared, none were given mercy, as they rose up, their souls forever trapped within the lifeless husks.

"Who's we?" She demanded, suddenly free of the sound of silence.

"You will find out soon enough." The voice said cryptically, as the world shattered like glass around her. The second she regained her vision, she recoiled away from the black clad woman, trying to make sense of what happened. The woman tilted to her head to the side slightly, her golden staff in hand, confused.

"What- what was that?" Jaina sputtered, finally gaining her composure. To this, the woman only frowned.

"A vision of the future." She simply replied. Jaina opened her eyes wide in surprise. The only person she knew that could see, or predict the future, was Prophet Velen, the leader of the draenei. How did she know how to see the future? She would not be given an answer, as the woman continued to speak.

"Do not think we are your enemies however. In this time and age, we are merely allies, and have common foes to deal with..." She said, gesturing to Klaus and the so called Kaptin Bluddflagg, who was still frozen. She should probably fix that. Not now, but later.

"Why should I trust you?" Jaina said through clenched teeth, looking at Klaus. To this he coughed, clearing his throat, one hand still clutching the wound on his chest.

"The real question, is why not? She has shown you the future, of what will happen. All life on this world will perish and rot by this so called, Lich King's, pestilential touch. Would you wish for this world to become a disease ridden husk, or would you wish to utterly destroy the enemy?" Klaus merely said. The silence that followed was so thick Jaina could probably cut it, and sell it as cake.

"Now, I will ask you a question. Currently we are split up. The rest of our… group of warriors… still is in Darnassus, fighting the ruinous powers. Perhaps you could provide us… a favor…" The woman said, to which Klaus snorted.

"Heh. Warriors… More like renegades, outcasts, and mercenaries..." He mumbled, still poking at his bloody bandages. The woman slapped his hand lightly, almost like a mother scolding a child.

"Stop." She said softly. Klaus sighed, leaning forward. Jaina glanced at the bloody bandages, and the rips and tears in his uniform. He certainly looked different since they had last seen each other, somewhere around a month ago.

"I'll offer you a deal. I want to know who you are, and why you're here. In return, I can offer you a spot in the Argent Crusade." She said. The two glanced at her with confused glances.

"Argent Crusade?" Klaus asked, a slight amount of eagerness in his voice.

"A collection of warriors, priests, paladins, dedicated to fighting the scourge in northrend. Tirion Fordring handpicks members in order to make sure their are no agents from the Cult of the Damned, but I'm sure he could make some exceptions." She explained. Klaus raised an eyebrow.

"And I assume that there are xenos in this so called crusade?" He asked, anticipating a disappointing answer for him. And that was what he received

"Yes, all races are allowed within the Argent Crusade." She said. He sighed, rubbing his face.

"Great. More xenos." He mumbled softly. Jaina smiled a little bit.

"You don't seem to mind as much." She said. He looked back up, anger blazing strong within his eyes.

"If I had the chance, I would have killed each, and every single xeno I have seen from pole to pole." He growled, clenching his fists so hard she heard knuckles crack.

"However… it appears that the human population on this planet is far… far less, than marginable, let alone acceptable. If we had Vitae Wombs, or even more barbaric, fertility pills, then this would not have been an issue." He grumbled. The woman shot her a glance, before she smiled, sticking out a gloved hand in greeting.

"I am Lofn Ulthran, Farseer of Craftworld Ulthwe, but you may call me Lofn. I assume you have already met my companion." She said, grinning, ignoring the snort that Klaus made from behind her back.

"I assure you, it's a pleasure." Jaina said, repaying the greeting, as their hands met. It felt cold strangely. She glanced back at Klaus, who was currently playing with his knife, twirling it expertly in his hand.

"I'll go ask a priest if they can fix your friend's wounds. Shouldn't be too hard." She said, glancing back at Lofn.

"And Bluddflagg?" She asked, tilting her head to the frozen monstrosity. Jaina smiled slightly.

"Oh, he'll thaw out."

/

The Battle of Teldrassil was the first encounter of the Ruinous Powers upon Azeroth, and it would not be the last. While the Burning Legion fought for their own malicious purposes, the Ruinous Powers fought for a very simple, and very brutal cause. Simply because they could. It would be known on this day, of the battle to recapture the roots of the world tree, to prevent the foul ritual that would have untold consequences if it was performed correctly. However, despite the outcome of the battle, it also had some other consequences, though only to one individual.

Nebetaruk, The Lord of Metal, charged forward, impaling an unsuspecting Horror. It let out a bubbling squeal of rage and anger, as Nebetaruk threw it down, crushing its shifting pink skull with his foot. He walked up the steps, throwing down another daemon down the stairs. Behind him were several other mercenaries, who swept their hammers and swords at the daemons that kept tumbling down the stairs, ending their non existent lives. It was a chaotic melee at the root of the trees, and many daemons had been killed. But more kept coming from higher up in the tree. Not for long.

"Push forward." He growled, as he continued to scale up the tree. It was rather convenient that their were steps engraved into some of the wood, as he did not really trust his tree climbing skills, probably for the better anyway. He found it funny, to some degree. A Necron should not be considering how he was climbing a tree. He should consider how he would lead a metal crusade against the armies of the living, purging planets and retaking tomb worlds in his name, carving a dynasty in the silent abyss of space. Yet here he was, considering how lucky he was he didn't have to climb a tree. He snorted, a sharp, metallic, click, as he bisected a Charging Bloodletter into two twitching, burning pieces, which tumbled down the stairs. Such silly thoughts, he mumbled to himself.

"Adventureres. Secure the stairwell. I shall face the sorcerer myself." Nebetaruk grumbled. The few adventurers paused for a few moments, before they grudgingly accepted, moving away, as he continued to climb up. The warp energy grew thick like fog, as for ten minutes, he continued to climb up. Finally, he reached the end of the certain staircase, coming across a small platform. It was similar to a balcony, with a beautiful backdrop in the background, the rest of the so called Kalimdor, and the azure blue seas in front of it. The less beautiful sight before him was a morphing daemon in the center, surrounded by two Blood Letters. The daemon chuckled, its voice ever shifting in an assortment of pitches, as it turned. It looked similar to a horror, though it seemed much larger in comparison. A pair of arcane violet eyes stared at him, a obsidian, black beak underneath, the only things that seemed to be stable in the changing daemon. Gold and white robes plastered its body, though it didn't do much to cover the body of the daemon. It clutched a heavy book in two of its hand, the other arm carrying a staff.

"Ah. Necron Lord Nebetarukkkk… at leassst… thatssss what you call yourssseeellff…" It said aloud. Nebetaruk froze. How did it know his name?

"You truly are an enigma." It said, as it began to pace back and forward. Nebetaruk could not lift his warscythe to challenge the daemon if he could try. He was utterly shellshocked.

"I find it… amusing, to say the least, considering your backstory." It mumbled, giving him a quick glance, before it stopped. It opened the book, and a fourth arm began to sprout out of its chest. With rather painful looking talons, the newly grown fourth hand flipped thousands of pages. The book seemed impossibly heavy, but the daemon looked through it without worry. Finally, it stopped flipping pages, as it began to read.

"Ah yessss... Nebetaruk. Here we are…" The daemon mumbled, before looking back up. If it could smile, it would have been splitting a grin from ear to non existent ear. Suddenly, purple chains rose up from the floor, snatching him. He was about to activate the phase shifter, when the chains suddenly unleashed unimaginable pain. It took all of his willpower to not scream out in pain, but even then, his voice box would probably have been incapable of making such a noise to begin with. His warscythe clattered onto the ground, a disrespect to the blade. He looked up in fury, as the daemon came closer. A warscythe was not just a weapon. It was tradition. Some could argue that tradition was all that the Necrons had anymore, and they wouldn't be wrong. To disrespect such a weapon would be a monumental slight on his honor. This daemon, would die.

"Do you know what they call me… Nebetaruk? They call me the Gazzzzer. The Librarian. For I have ssseen all. I have ssseen and known the passst. The very, very passsst. I know everything." It said aloud, as it paced around Nebetaruk, gloating in its success.

"Yet here you are, a slave to your gods…" Nebetaruk mumbled. The chains tightened.

"Tssk Tssk. Such… arrogance…" It mumbled, as it sat down. It slowly levitated into the air, as it put its staff on its lap, and glanced down at the book once more.

"A captor can do whatever he wantsss to hissss captor, isss it not true?" It asked, though it clearly did not want an answer.

"It hassss become a… habit, I must ssssay, of how I disssspatch my… victimsss." It mumbled, as it looked down at Nebetaruk from his position in the air.

"I love to ssshare the ssstories of the past of my foes. I love to watch asss all they know crumble and change around them. For thisss is the glory of tzeentch, issss it not? Change. What a wonderful, beautiful word. The definition of change isss not rigid. Nothing is rigid. All mussst change in order to progress. To remain ssstagnant is to rot, and wither away. To change, isss to survive. To change, is to THRIVE. I have done this to a many plethora of victims. The mossst holiest of zealots. The most wisssest of priests. The mossst stubborn of lords. The most ignorant…" It ranted, as it looked back at Nebetaruk, and chuckled. An unholy sound, that changed drastically in pitches, from sounding like a clicking scarab to the sound of a volcano erupting.

"Of thossse who cannot remember. But now, it is only me, and you. Now, shall we begin?" It asked, chuckling, as its fourth arm poked randomly on the ancient yellow pages, and he began to read.

"You are not Nebetaruk, Soullesss one. As a matter of fact, you should not even bear that name, as it brings great shame to the one who originally bore it." It began, as it stopped floating, as it started to walk around him.

"As a matter of fact, there's a reason why you cannot remember anything anymore. It was nothing of accident. It was completely purposeful. You cannot remember anything, for you had been wiped." The daemon said aloud. Nebetaruk froze. He knew he shouldn't trust the daemons words. Klaus had said that all the daemons did was lie and mislead. Lofn had said that all daemons wanted was to spread misery and corruption. Bluddflagg had said that daemons were squirmy fings, dat shuldnt be trusted as far as ya can frow em. Sumtimes it wurks, sometimes it dont. He knew he could not listen to the daemons poisoned words. But the daemon had thrown a lure he could not possibly ignore. His identity. Who he truly was.

"Regardless… why don't I ssshare this tale with you? A tale of treachery, butchery, madness, of severed ties… of a friend who lost… everything…"

/

The priest finally left Klaus to his own devices, and closed the doors behind her. He poked at the new skin that had formed where his the right side of his ribs were, the pain now long gone. Whatever that 'priest' had done to him was nothing short of a miracle, but even then, he was incredibly curious, and suspicious. He also was curious to know that the priest said that she was not born with her powers, but rather taught. This so called… 'light' . If one could be taught psychic abilities... Klaus was always be paranoid of psykers, and would be until the day he died, which he knew was slowly approaching him, faster than he wanted, but to be taught psychic abilities without actually being a psyker, and the risks that followed would certainly be . He took his bag from his bag and dumped it on the bed that Jaina had so kindly provided. Several bruised apples, a canteen of water, roughly a dozen bolter clips, his multi purpose spade, a rather dirty blanket, a large sack of gold, his sewing kit fell onto the bed. The sac ripped open, gold pieces spilling all over the blanket. But that wasn't what he was looking for. He shook the sac once more, and his gasmask fell to the ground, the bed cushioning its fall. He grabbed it gently, looking it over with a critical eye, a look of sadness on his face.

The days had certainly not been kind to his treasured gasmask. A long crack went down its plasteel frame, the air tube nozzle being fractured. The left lense had been shattered, a tiny broken shard of golden glass all that was left of it, while the right lense was cracked, a web of fissures and ravines within the glass. The skull motive on the face of the mask was chipped and dried, the paint flaking away. He wiped away a smidge of dust that had formed on the forehead section of the helmet, and he sighed.

"If myself from the past could see me now… what would he say?" He mumbled to himself.

"He would be surprised of how much you had changed, yet still claim yourself to be loyal." A harsh, whispery voice mumbled from behind him. Klaus raised an eyebrow, refusing to turn around.

"Legion. I did not know subtly was something a Damned Legionnaire knew." He grumbled.

"The blood of Corax runs through my veins. Like the blood of Dorn. The blood of Sanguinius. The blood of the Khan." Legion replied. They were both silent for a few moments, before Legion spoke again.

"Metaphorically speaking, of course." He added on. Klaus sighed, as his fingers brushed lovingly against his treasured gasmask.

"I do not know anymore Legion. I do not know if I serve the emperor. I always tell myself that compromises can be made, but how many compromises can I make before it shows that I am merely lying to myself?" He asked softly.

"Then change. If you truly believe you serve the god emperor, then prove to yourself that you are a loyal servant." Legion replied. Klaus snorted.

"A space marine, an adeptus astartes. A god among men, telling me to change who I am. Heh." He chuckled, before sighing. Some people cannot change." Klaus growled.

"Seldom so. This is the ultimate fate of humanity. We either change, or we die. It is simple as that. Some change more than. Some change because it was merely their fate. Others change when the conditions force them." Legion replied. Klaus sighed, looking at his gasmask.

"You wish for it to be fixed. Renovated. Born anew." Legion pointed out.

"Aye. It is true." He replied. This gasmask, like it or not, was his past. It was him from a long time ago.

"Then it shall be Renovated. It shall be fixed. From the ashes of your past, you will be reborn in the fiery cinders and embers of the present, and rise to the future." Legion mumbled. Klaus could hear the soft sound of flames being ignited, and the soft ringing of church bells, as Klaus turned. Legion was gone. Klaus looked down at the gasmask in hand, and sighed, as his hands went over the cracks and fissures on his treasured mask. Perhaps Legion was right. Perhaps he needed to change. Perhaps the cold hearted soldier he was in the past needed to be something more in order to survive. He looked back at the gasmask, staring directly into the shattered lenses. For thirty seconds he stared at the ruined gasmask, until he finally blinked, waking him up from his trance. With newfound purpose he rose up from his bed, as he began to shove everything except for his gasmask, and his 'wallet' back into the sack. He looked out the window, to see the purple and yellow sunset outside. Nodding his head, he left his room, seeking a certain blacksmith and weapons dealer.

/

The War in Heaven. Long before the Imperium of Man rose to power, Long before the Eldar Empire fell to the ground, Long before everything else, there were two superpowers in the galaxy, two empires as ancient as time. The Necrontyr empire, and the kingdom of the Old Ones. The Old Ones were beings of such vast power, they could have been considered gods in their own right. Masters of the warp and psychic energy, the old ones were like gods. On the opposite side of the spectrum, the ancient Necrontyr were masters of science and engineering. Teleportation, pocket sized dimensions, and power. Power to rival the old ones themselves. However, the Necrontyr empire was on the verge of collapse. Civil wars wracked the body of the empire like plague, and on the verge of collapse, the triarchs tried to save the empire. The Triarch was the governing body of the Necrontyr empire. The Silent King ruled, while the two other triarchs were the bearers of his word, the enforcers of his orders, and the hand of his justice. The Triarchs declared war on the Old Ones. Jealous of their longevity, and how they had come so far compared to the Necrontyr, but also to keep the empire from falling apart, and to keep the many dynasties in line. It was described as the battle of gods from primitive races. Masters of the warp and psychic abilities versus the Masters of science and technology. It was a catastrophic battle, yet the outcome quickly became clear. Science and Technology are powerful things indeed, but they were bound by the laws of physics, the laws of space and time. The warp merely crumpled these rules up and pissed on it, and made sure to soak it good. The Necrontyr were pushed to the verge of extinction, but the Old Ones never laid the final blow. The Necrontyr hate blossomed like a flower, proving to be quite the lure to the ancient beings known as the C'tan. Together they made a pact, and it is here, that the story branches.

Two Necron Lords were once very good friends. Though not part of the same dynasty, their ties were close, and had known each other for many years. One day, one of the lords was appointed to be the Silent King. To be the ruler of the Necron people. Several days later, the Necrontyr bargained their souls for something they always dreamed of. Eternal life. The offers were all there. All Necrontyr, from the highest of the triarchs, to the scum of the bottom level of society was given immortality. They were united, but to the horror of the Silent King, they were bound to him. Command Protocols bounded the entire Necrontyr empire to his will. Including his friend. The once friendly, honest Necrontyr he knew was now a mindless slave, who only wished to serve. As the Silent King watched as the C'tan ate the life essence of his people, it was truly then he knew what he had done, the mistake he had made. He bargained away mortality, for slavery. He knew that with the union of the now Necron people and the C'tan, the Old Ones and their creations would be crushed utterly. It was now, he slowly planned the betrayal. The War in Heaven had begun. Soon, the Old Ones were utterly destroyed, exterminated. The C'tan were arrogant, and could not sense the danger until it was too late. As the Silent King led the rebellion, one of the C'tan had one, final card to play. One that would haunt the Silent King in his eternal life. One day, during the final days of the rebellion, Szarekh the Silent King, was challenged by an anonymous Necron. Szarekh was hesitant, but he accepted the duel anyways. As Szarekh marched to the ancient barren fields of their homeworld, the challenger greeted him. The Silent King was shocked to see who his challenger was.

The challenger was his long friend, who he thought had died during the peak of the War in Heaven. However, as the challenger approached, The Silent King realised that the Necron had been possessed, by a small figment of a C'tans power. They charged each other, warscythes meeting. The battle lasted roughly eight hours and seven minutes, as they struggled to finish each other off. Every blow was blocked, every sweep was parried, every stab was dodged. Finally, The Silent King defeated the challenger. He could sense the C'tans power fading, but as the Challenger rose, their blades met again. The Silent King had many sins on his soul. Many doubts, and many grievances to account for. He, and he alone, was the reason for his people's curse. He could not bear another sin in his name. The C'tan had driven his friend absolutely mad. As they fought, the challenger ranted about times of change. Different realms. That the Necrons, under the C'tans power, would set out and claim the whole universe, and unite it under the banner of the Necron empire. The Silent King beat the challenger yet again, and dragged his body back to his citadel. The Silent King began to seal the tomb worlds, one by one. Their was only one more left, as he finally exacted the final step of his plan. He ordered his crypteks to infect his friend and his dormant servants with a virus that would cleanse their minds of the madness. The crypteks agreed, and soon the infection began. The virus ran rampant through the consciousness of the Necron Lord and his people. The Silent King sent the Necron Lord and his dormant people away, as he activated the slumbering protocol. A cryptek took them away, and The Silent King spared the fleeting ship with one last look, before he sealed the final tomb world, severed the command protocol, and left the people he had ruined behind.


	46. Chapter 46: Phoenix

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So here is another chapter, i hope you like it.

Anyways, I will no longer be going through every review. Instead i will go through reviews that are direct questions.

I dont like answering reviews were i just basically say 'yep you're right, ha ha.'

Anyways, I have something very special planned for this month, and you guys get to see it soon...

Anyways, enjoy!

Klaus checked the sign of the shop one last time, his eyes peering into the dark. The shop was quite a small building, roughly being the size of a room. Several torches burned in the night outside, while several small windows let out a soft glow from the warm hearth inside, and a small 'Open' sign was hanging on the brass knob of the door. Klaus took a deep sigh, weighed the sack in his other hand, before he turned the knob of the door. It slowly creaked open, as a faint golden light burned into his retinas. He winced slightly, as he walked in. As the door closed, a small bell rung. Klaus glanced up, noting the system of pulleys and levers which allowed for said bell to ring.

"Hm. Don't normally get customers this late." A voice said from behind, as Klaus turned around to face the speaker. A small gnome greeted him, and Klaus couldn't help but notice he was standing on a stool in order to make himself appear taller. Messy red hair coated his scalp, a small instrument on his left eye absorbing Klaus's facial features. He wore a pair of blue overalls over a black shirt, and was currently holding a small hammer in his hand.

"I thought so." Klaus said dryly, as the gnome stuck out his small hand. Klaus clamped it with his free hand.

"Hm. You sound familiar. Names Lolewack Geargrinder." Lolewack said, introducing himself. Klaus knew who he was, but it appeared that the gnome did not remember him.

"That is because we have met before." Klaus simply said. Lolewack's face dawned in surprise.

"It's you! You're the guy who had that… what was it… lasgun, yeah yeah!" He said, his face turning into a giddy grin. Klaus raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. I am the 'guy'" Klaus replied. The gnome seemed rather happy to see him again. Why, was the question.

"So uh. You got that lasgun with ya?" Lolewack grinned, holding his small arms in a placating gesture. Klaus shook his head.

"No. I have acquired different wargear. Instead, I use this." Klaus said, shrugging off the gilded bolter off of his shoulder, sliding it in his hands. The gnome took a deep breath, his eyes wildly examining the weapon. After ten seconds, the gnome whistled in appreciation.

"Hot diggity damn. And how does this work?" The gnome asked quietly. Klaus unloaded the clip, carefully prying out a bolt shell.

"This is a gilded bolter. Smaller than Adeptus Astartes patterns, and less powerful, yet still effective. I'm not too sure about the sciences of how it works exactly, but i do know that it fires by igniting a chemical base in the ammunition, which propels the bolt shell forward." He said, gently shaking the large round in his hand. It was nearly the length of his thumb, yet was around an inch thick and wide, before putting it back into the clip, and putting said clip back into the gun. Lolewack grinned wildly.

"Can I-"

"No."

"Oh please!"

"No."

"With a Cherry on top?"  
"No cherries."

"Come on!"

"No."

"I'll pay ya!"

"I do not require payment. Instead, I require something else." Klaus replied, as he reached into his satchel, retrieving his gasmask, and carefully put it on the table in front of them, as Lolewack waved to a chair by the table. He sat down, as the gnome pulled a small lever on his chair. Klaus couldn't help but snicker as a small beeping noise came from the stool, as slowly yet surely, the stool pushed Lolewack up, until they were somewhat close to eye to eye level, though still short a foot or two. It must have been a high chair, or a high stool. Lolewack didn't seem to mind the laughing, as he gently grabbed the gasmask, looking it over in his hands.

"Yeesh. What happened here?" Lolewack asked, glancing back at Klaus. Klaus sighed, looking at his gasmask.

"It was broken and damaged during combat. It was my foolishness to believe a foe was dispatched,and it was a mistake. A mistake that had nearly costed me my life. A valuable commodity, that I nearly wasted." Klaus said. Lolewack seemed puzzled about the last sentence, but he seemed to ignore it.

"I see… and what do you want me to do?" Lolewack asked. Klaus waved to the gasmask still in his hand.

"I wish to see it fixed. I head to Northrend soon, and to be ill prepared would be a death sentence." Klaus said. Lolewack whistled, as he glanced down at the gasmask.

"Northrend huh?" He mumbled. Klaus nodded. Lolewack looked back up at him.

"So why you goin?" Lolewack asked. Klaus paused.

"What does that mean?" Klaus said, confused. Lolewack sighed.

"Well, everybody's got a reason to fight the undead, you know… Glory, Vengeance, Justice… Bloodshed." Lolewack said, trying to get the point across. Klaus thought about his answer for a few moments, before he replied.

"I was told it was my fate, and who am I to deny it?" Klaus simply said. Lolewack chuckled.

"Ah. So it's a date with destiny?" He said, in a joking manner. Klaus smiled a tiny bit.

"Yes. It is a date with destiny. However, my schedule is rather packed. I have a date with destiny, an appointment with death, and a reservation in hell, and it's coming faster than I would like." Klaus said. Lolewack opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but he kept his mouth shut.

"So just this?" Lolewack asked, glancing back at Klaus. To answer, Klaus shrugged off his greatcoat, gently putting it on the table.

"I feel that some extra protection would not be harmful." He replied. Lolewack grabbed the greatcoat, looking the folded material in his hand, his hand rubbing over the carapace armor. Klaus flinched slightly, reminding himself to cleanse his uniform with prayer and water. And soap. A lot of it.

"So what do you want me to do with the coat?" Lolewack asked, looking at Klaus. He sighed. Abhumans could be tiresome.

"I wish to see my gasmask fixed, reforged if necessary, and my uniform upgraded with additional armor plating, and also a helmet. However, since I do not yet trust you, I will stay here to direct the process… to my liking. This must be done by tomorrow morning. Lest I summon the wrath of a particular… sorceress." Klaus explained, trying out the locale lingo. Lolewack sighed, running a hand through his fiery red hair.

"Geez…" He mumbled to himself, before looking back at Klaus, a small frown on his face.

"This is going to cost quite a lot. Especially if it's an overnighter." He stated. To this, Klaus lazily chucked the sack of coins onto the table. It smacked onto the center of the table, as the hand sized sack landed right on his uniform. Several small gold coins shot out from the hole in the sack, landing onto the floor, making a small clicking noise. Lolewack lighted up like a candle, and grinned.

"Well then. You certainly know how to impress a gnome. I'm going to have to call in a few favors, but I'll see this done. And don't you worry! You'll get _thee_ highest quality gear you ever seen!" Lolewack shouted in pride. Klaus merely nodded. Good to see that the abhuman was cooperative. He was prepared to force the decision upon him. By gunpoint, of course. Or Power Sword point. Either one was a good choice.

"Get to it then. You have until dawn." Klaus said. To this, Lolewack began to lower himself to the ground, and to begin to gather his tools of trade. Klaus merely took his chair, and moved it to the corner of the room, where he began to wait.

/

Nebetaruk was trying to process all of the information that was pouring into his brain block. His logic engine was struggling to survive, as it tried to regulate all of his other systems in proper functioning order. But it could not. All he could do was hear the daemons words. He wanted it to be lying. It had too. But all of the sudden, it made so much sense. So much clarity. It was why out of all systems that could have been damaged during slumber, systems that could have been far more vulnerable, it was his memory, and memory alone. Nothing else. At first, he thought it was a curse. A near impossible thing to happen exclusively, and he hated it. But now? Now, he realised just how badly he wanted it. Needed it. And the daemon wasn't done.

"You see now?" The daemon said, mockingly, as it lowered itself from the position it was in, and started to pace around, the book still in hand.

"I have seen everything. I know every dirty little secret, every small passion, and every hushed whisper you and your… companions… have ever shared. Certainly, an interesting little bunch you have. Ultimately, you will fail." The daemon mumbled. It stopped, as a red gaping tear began to open wide in front of him.

"The master shall be summoned, the trap will be set… and I will claim my reward…" The daemon mumbled, before looking back at Nebetaruk.

"But first, I will get rid of you…" It replied, as it crept behind him.

"A shame. The suffering that the c'tan had left you with would have been so… enjoyable…" It hissed to itself, before Nebetaruk could feel the icy touch of the daemons staff at the back of his head.

"Enjoy the embrace of the black void, soulless one." It said. Nebetaruk realised the horror of his death. That he would die knowing what he had done from long ago, with no way to atone for it.

"SHNEAK ATTACK!" Nebetaruk heard someone roar. Nebetaruk looked up in surprise, as he saw a massive green object swinging at the daemon, hanging from a thick vine. The daemon gasped in surprise, as the objects collided. The daemon was sent tumbling down the staircase, before he heard an explosion. And another explosion. And another. And another. Nebetaruk looked up, as a hand had stuck out of the red gaping tear. It was a blue armored hand, but the owner immediately withdrawn, as the tear began to close. The Bloodletters howled, as they were consumed by fire. Two shells fell to the ground, as the chains that bound Nebetaruk to the ground began to disappear, the warp forged metal burning to cinders.

"Heh Heh. Mista Nailbrain always sayin 'ya know wot dis place needs?' and den i wuld say 'I dunno Mista Nailbrain, wot da zog dus dis place need?' and den he says… 'MOAR MOINES! He heh… he'll fink dis wuz funny, maybe yoo dun get it...'" Spookums cackled from behind him, as Nebetaruk rubbed his wrists and shoulders, the phantom pain assaulting his non existent nerves.

"Dis is da part ya say fanks, tin bot." Spookums mumbled, as Nebetaruk grabbed his fallen warscythe, looking back at the ork. He was nonchalantly twirling his two foot long 'knife' in his hand, whistling a tune between his massive tusks.

"I… I thank you… however, the daemon was trying to summon… something…" Nebetaruk grumbled, looking back at where the red gaping hole was.

"And I fear there's more to come." Nebetaruk mumbled. Spookums shrugged.

"More ta kill fur me. Anyways, dose purple fings want ta see ya." Spookums said. Nebetaruk paused.

"How long were you watching?" Nebetaruk asked. Spookums gave him a wide grin.

"Since da beginning." Spookums replied. Nebetaruk fumed silently.

"You were watching since the beginning, and you CHOSE not to assist?" He demanded. Spookums put one finger to his chin, as if he was thinking (if it was possible) as now he was juggling his knife in one hand.

"Yep!" He said, letting out an evil cackle, as Nebetaruk sighed. They both began to descend down the staircase, both unaware of the fury that had awakened on two planes.

/

"HE'S WHAT?!" Lofn screamed at the top of her lungs. Bluddflagg winced in pain, his old ragged ears twitching under the verbal assault. If she was any louder, he swore he would have been bleeding. He had been having a very bad day. First, one of his scars was leaking green pus, and no amount of foightin juice seemed to fix it. Second, he was having a killer migraine from being left in an ice block for several hours. And now this. It was so simple. Check on the humie, see what he was doing, and leave. When he wasn't in his room, he decided to check around the expansive castle. After nearly getting into a fight with half of the royal guard, getting fruit thrown at him, and someone calling his hat stupid (to whom he took behind the castle, snapped their neck, and threw them into the ocean) he could not find the humie. So it was with great worry that he went back to the farseer.

And his worry was completely justified.

"He's uh… he ain't in his room. Er in da castle." Bluddflagg reported again, slightly worried. It was a good rule of thumb to not go near weird ones, and pissing one off wasn't a good idea either. He had seen weird boys when they got mad. Their heads exploded. And so did everyone else's in a five meter radius. She let out a small scream of anger, as she began to stomp out of her room, down the expansive halls. Servants and others gave them a wide berth of space, most likely due to her now blue glowing eyes, and the green hulking monstrosity behind her. After awhile, they came to a large door. Lofn shot out with her psychic power, nearly ripping the door off of its hinges. Inside their was a large bed, a small sofa, some chairs, a mirror, and several candles. But it was missing an occupant. And it appeared that Lofn would travel through hell and back just to find him. Why, Bluddflagg didn't know, but at least she was determined.

"I checked everywhere twig. Ya aint foindin him here." He said, as she began to frantically look through his room, lifting beds and chairs to look for the humie.

"Well we have to! Do you know how much trouble I will be in if he's gone, or worse, dead?!" She said frantically, as she tried to control herself. Obviously, it wasn't working, as she was currently hyperventilating. Bluddflagg thought for a moment if he should help. Then, he heard his stomach rumble. So he decided not to, as he pulled an apple from his coat, and popped it into his mouth. He never had 'fruit' before, but it was alright.

"Dont ya twigs can look for peepuls moinds, er sumfing like dat?" He suggested, as he watched her turn around.

"Why, that's the smartest thing you've said yet." She said mockingly. Bluddflagg snorted, his nose ring moving with the great exhale.

"Yeah yeah, go zog yerself." he grumbled, looking away. He would prefer orks over these two any other day, but at least they were somewhat killy. After a few seconds, she smiled, taking a deep breath.

"There we go. He's in the center pavilion." She said, taking a deep breath. Bluddflagg raised an eye in surprise. His room was right next to Klaus's, and he didn't hear Klaus sneaking out. Bluddflagg was an ex kommando, so the fact that a humie out sneaked him was something he did not enjoy thinking about.

"Oi dont fink da humies iz gunna loike me." He suggested, which was completely true. He didnt really like humies. Sure, they were good killing, but they were so bland sometimes. Always the same, talking about their emperera. At least these humies were different, though he hadn't killed them. Yet.

"I assume not. Are you ok staying here?" She asked politely, her anger suddenly gone. Bluddflagg granted her a suspicious glare, and waved her off. She nodded, her head, and left with alarming speed. Bluddflagg sighed. That could have been worse. Suddenly, something in his greatcoat buzzed. He reached into it, pulling out a small metal box. A majik talkie! He nearly forgot he had the damn thing. He pressed the big red button, and held the box up to his ear.

"Oi kapn!" A voice screeched at him through the other end. He winced slightly, as he snarled back at the majik talkie.

"Keep yer zoggin voice down yoo stupid grot!" He growled.

"Oooh alroight foine. Quiet as a… erm… wots quiet?" He heard the voice say. Bluddflagg sighed, rubbing his face. Though Mista Nailbrain was smart, sometimes he was a fucking idiot.

"Quiet as a… erm… how do I say dis… oh fank ya Spookums… er… ok… M… O… ya wiff me? Alright, i'm gunna keep on goin… U… S… alright, den dere's one more letta, yeah, its… wot wos it? Oh. E…"

"GET TO DA ZOGGIN POINT YA TWAT." Bluddflagg snarled at him.

"Oh yeah roight. So weze krumped dem daemons gud, ya hear? But da problem iz dat i fink dat some of dem got away." Mista Nailbrain explained. Bluddflagg paused.

"Wot do ya mean by dat?" He demanded. Mista Nailbrain sighed.

"Dose fings that dey call 'Boats' dey saw un boat get away from da big tree fing. Dey tried to chase em, but da gits got away." He added on.

"Hmm. Dat aint gud. Gud for da orks, course, but dat aint good for da twig and da humies. Get yer skinny ass to uh… Thereamore… yeah, cuz we gunna kick some pasty git arse in sum snow… Its gonna be a long trip, so pee for u leave.. And bring sumfing warm, cuz ice iz kold." Bluddflagg ordered.

"Roight. I'll go tell da tin kan and Spookums dat weze moving out boss. See ya soon Kapn." Mista Nailbrain screeched, as the majik talkie let out a beep. Bluddflagg sticked the majik talkie back into his coat, and patted it lightly.

/

" **You Failure…"** A deep foreboding voice said, and Vo'ndrath screamed in fear and pain, as his master slowly squeezed the life out of him. Vo'ndrath had feared such a failure, but he did not know how bad it would have been. The army he had been 'given' to was destroyed utterly, almost all of his cultists were dead, and perhaps worst of all, the sorcerer had not been freed from the warp. Somehow the sorcerer had been trapped within the warp, in such a way that he could not be attacked in the warp itself. In a limbo status, the sorcerer was in. And now Vo'ndrath had failed to get him out.

"Master! I will not fail you again! I swear it!" He pleaded, psychically grovelling at his master's feet. Anything was better than suffering from the masters wrath.

" **Oh, but you would, wouldn't you? It was simple. Bring forth the sorcerer, and capture him, and let him suffer my wrath. After all, it was his betrayal that led to this… war. An evolution from the great game to the great war. It is all of his fault, and mortal words cannot describe the torture he shall endure…"** The Master growled. Vo'ndrath was silent, waiting for him to finish.

" **However… I am not done with you yet… A mistake that we had made long ago has come back to haunt us… and if my brothers are so foolish to ignore it, then I must deal with it…"** He growled.

"What would you have me do… master?" Vo'ndrath asked quietly. The Master snorted, an amber eye looking upon him in the darkness.

" **You shall be reformed. Either capture Ahriman, or kill him. Then, you shall destroy this so called… Burning Legion… by any means necessary…"** He continued.

"But my master… what of the great war? Surely the other fools will notice this?" Vo'ndrath asked. The master gave him a death glare that would fry thousands of mortals brains with but a glance.

" **That is for me to worry about. Do not fail me again, unless you would like your punishment to be… severe."** Tzeentch, master of change and sorcery commanded.

"But my lord? What of this world… Azeroth?" Vo'ndrath asked. Tzeentch was quiet for an agonizingly long thirty seconds. Yet again, time made no sense in the warp, so it probably wasn't thirty seconds.

" **It is like a small Terra… however… I find no need in it. Use its populace if necessary. Remember the plan**." Tzeentch said, as Vo'ndrath disappeared from the warp, leaving the raven god to plan and scheme.


	47. Chapter 47: Boats, Questions, and Hats

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So this is a short chapter, but for a reason.

Next chapter is going to be several things. Large. Fluffy. Spooky.

So I hope you guys can enjoy.

Lofn stalked throughout the winding streets of Theramore, with one singular goal in mind. It was rather peaceful here, she had to admit. It appeared that the citizens here did not know of the horrors that lurked beyond the walls of the city, but they didn't seem to mind. They were… Ignorant. Ignorance. Something she wished she always had. But it was forcefully taken away from her by the time she knew how to speak. She watched as children played with dolls and toys on the roads, others tending their gardens, harvesting their fruits of labor. It was admirable almost. A sharp contrast to the humans she knew. She reached out into the minds of the populace once again, looking for one in particular. She chided herself, as she regained her composure. What intent did he have to sneak out during the night? He must have been tired from all of that fighting! She sure was at least, and she was pretty sure Bluddflagg was somewhat tired as well. She attracted a fair amount of curious and suspicious glances, as she was currently in partial kit, leaving her helmet back at the castle. She was half running and half jogging around the cobblestone streets, looking for a certain someone.

"Where are you…" She mumbled to herself, as she entered the center pavilion. It was a rather large square where most of the branching roads met. A large crowd of people had gathered up, and she could hear music playing. It was fast, quick, and rapid, and sounded something similar to a wraith flute, though not nearly as melodic. Though she knew what she had to do, curiosity overtook her, as she gently slided through the crowd, getting a view of what was happening inside the crowd. She gasped, as she saw who it was. If it wasn't for the signature gasmask, she probably wouldn't be able to identify Klaus. He looked a lot different from the last time she had seen him before. His raggedy and cut greatcoat had been freshly refurbished, sewed, and straightened out. Small sections of black armor plating covered his kneecaps and thighs, while the sleeves of his greatcoat had been newly painted it seemed, along with having several new plates of armor. His chest pieces was completely revamped, with a golden aquila being emblazoned against the carapace armor, black and yellow steel surrounding it. His shoulder plates were also colored in the same pattern, with the word Fifth on both shoulderpads. His gasmask was also revamped, as it was newly fixed. It appeared that it had been modified, as iron plating now covered the cheek and forehead areas. A bright white skull had been painted on his gasmask, pillars of red flame erupting from the golden glass lenses. A black helmet hugged his hair tightly, a small crest coming out from the top, leather straps holding it secure to his head. She could faintly see his gilded bolter, which was now covered by a short black cape that went down to his waist. His power sword was in a black sheathe, which was tied to his waist. Not only did his new appearance shock her, but what he was doing also shocked her. He was doing something she never, never expected him to do.

He was dancing.

A maiden, roughly in her twenties, was being twirled like a harlequin in his arms, as a group of musicians were currently playing flutes and other instruments. It was graceful, something she certainly did not see him doing in her mind. She looked back at the dance that was happening, as Klaus held one of her arms, as she was currently twirling on her toes. After a good twenty seconds, she began to slow, and Klaus gently let her back into the audience, where a roar of applause was let out. However, he suddenly seemed confused, looking back at the girl he was dancing with, glancing back at his black leather gloves. She wanted to say something, but unfortunately, he saw her first.

"Lofn? What are you doing here?" He asked, moseying back into the crowd, worming his way through to reach her.

"I could ask you the same thing." She hissed back silently, as they began to leave, as the crowd continued to do their own ritual. She also noticed that the airtube that he previously had was completely gone, instead replaced by a rebreather system.

"And besides, why did you sneak out? And how?" She demanded, anger slowly seeping into her voice.

"Who am I? Your slave?" He retorted, with an equal amount of poison in his voice. She sighed, rubbing her face.

"You know that you are MY responsibility, right?" She said, slightly more calm. He didn't say anything, the skull faced gasmask lazily staring at her.

"Explain." He simply replied.

"I was put in charge of making sure you didnt get yourself killed, or otherwise, and to make sure that you stayed on the correct path. If something were to happen to you, I would be held responsible. And the punishments would have been… severe." She explained. Klaus merely snorted.

"My guardian angels being orks, necrons, a damned legionnaire, and eldar… what's next?" He grumbled to himself, clearly displeased. Lofn decided to brighten him up. If it was possible.

"So… where did you get the… upgrade?" She asked cautiously, looking him up and down once again. Klaus crossed his arms.

"A… acquaintance, provided me with the wargear. I helped along with the process, mainly making sure the design was too my liking." He said, gesturing to his gasmask, helmet, and greatcoat.

"I must say though, the abhuman certainly surprised me with his craftsmanship. When he called in his 'friends' and turned out to be seven dwarfs, each with a wildly different beard style, I was slightly worried." He admitted, rasping a knuckle on the steel plates of the gasmask.

"But he exceeded my expectations. Though it did cost quite a lot, I would say it was worth it." He added on. A awkward silence was followed, as clearly, either didn't really know what to say.

"So… why were you dancing?" She asked, a question that she felt somebody would want to know. He shrugged.

"I was exploring around town when I was invited to join them." He simply said.

"Really? That's all it takes?" She replied. He snorted, though he seemed to be taking some time with his answer.

"I personally did not want to, but I saw no reason not too." He retorted. She sighed. She knew that this was a lie, and that their was a real reason, but she didn't have the energy to probe any further.

"Well, all I care about is that you're safe, and not dead." She said, smiling slightly. He nodded.

"Very well then. What news from the others?" He asked. She sighed, running her hand through her hair.

"I'm not too sure. I don't think we have any way to reach them, or at least communicate with them. We should sit tight for now, until we can think of either a way to reach them, or a plan to meet up with them." She suggested. Klaus sighed.

"Fine then. Let's just hope they can stay out of trouble."

/

"Out of everything you could have possibly done wrong, this is the ONE thing you had to mess up…" Nebetaruk growled, turning back to Mista Nailbrain, who was smiling sheepishly.

"Oh… I dont fink its dat bad." He grinned, as he looked at the 'masterpiece' he had fixed up. It had been roughly a week since the now called 'Battle of Darnassus' had been over, and it was quite literally a nightmare. Nebetaruk had to physically restrain himself from butchering the orks now. At first, it hadnt been so bad. Shortly after the battle, Tyrande personally thanked him and his 'companions' on their efforts, and asked them to have a celebratory feast. This proved to be a disaster. Nebetaruk learned a few good things that evening. One, never invite an ork to dinner. Second, never go to a dinner when you cannot physically eat. Third, never invite an ork to dinner. That span of three hours had possibly been the most mortifying experience he had ever went through, and it only got worse from there. Next, they were asked to help rebuild the city, which was going fine. Until yet again, the orks had to muck everything up. Not only had they abandoned their posts, they went missing. So for two hours, he scoured the entire island for them. And now that he found them, he wished that he didnt.

Nebetaruk looked at the so called 'boat' Mista Nailbrain had fashioned up, and he had several questions. One, was how he did this in only three days. Second, why?

The vessel was certainly not seaworthy, yet somehow floated. It was a somewhat large boat, roughly twenty feet long and ten feet wide. Two large masts jutted out from the boat, sails looking like sown together blankets and other materials sticking out. A small flag erupted from the side of the top mast, a small crows nest up on top of it. It looked ugly, with pieces of wood and metal spikes jutting out of the hull of the ship. It should not be able to float. It should have sank were it was. Yet somehow, it worked.

"How did you even manage to do this…" He mumbled, as Spookums came by, grinning.

"Da boss sayz dat weze got ta go ta dis… Feramore… place, yeah? And cordin ta dis akkurate n foolpoof map-" He said, shaking a dirty piece of parchment in his greasy hands. "Dat da best way ta get dere in da furst place iz boi sea." He added on. Nebetaruk chuckled.

"Since when did you learn how to not only pilot a ship, but how to maintain it and man it?" He asked, smiling mentally.

"Yesturday." Spookums replied, as Nebetaruk's mental grin was wiped clean off of his mind. They both turned, as Mista Nailbrain kicked down a long board, which landed on the pale sand with a whump.

"Alright ya twats. Get yer ass on da ship!" Mista Nailbrain shouted. While Spookums clambered on with a wide grin, Nebetaruk was hesitant, for a very good reason.

"Their is no possible way you can pilot a ship entirely by yourself. It would be madness!" He pointed out. To this, Mista Nailbrain grinned.

"Oo said dat I wuz doin dis by me-self? Yooze doin da work too ya lazy prick!" He shouted. Nebetaruk sighed, checking to make sure power was diverted to his Teleporter charm. If they were sinking, he would at least try to get to safety.

"We are all going to die." He added on, as he took a cautious step on the plank that lead up to the ship. To his surprise, it did not either creak nor break, as he expected it would.

"Oh ya so littul of faith. Believe in Gork n Mork, cuz dey's da uns whoze gunna be pushin dis fing." Mista Nailbrain shouted, who was currently making several knots with some rope on brass rings on the mast.

"You could not have possibly done this by yourself, in three days." Nebetaruk snorted, as he began to slowly walk up the board up to the ship. To this, Mista Nailbrain snorted, giving him a glare with his glass red eye.

"Course I didnt. Dats woi weze leavin for da tree huggas foindz out dat I stole un of der best ships." Mista Nailbrain chuckled.

"You WHAT?"  
"ARRGH! Weze dun got enugh toime fur dis shite! Spookums! Go down and loight da starta fuel! Weze leavin!" Mista Nailbrain shouted. Spookums nodded, as he opened a hatch, and started to climb down deeper into the confines of the ship.

"What else have you stolen?" Nebetaruk demanded, crossing his arms, staff still in hand. Mista Nailbrain frowned, scratching his eye.

"Eh. Nuffin much. Deze lads aint got good kit, so I just got da bare necessities." He explained.

"Such as?" Nebetaruk demanded. Mista Nailbrain huffed, as he started counting his fingers.

"Grog. Sumfing ta chew. Sumfing ta drink. Sum more Grog. Also, dey had diz big vault of shoiny stuff in dere Tempul, so I took dat too."

"YOU DID WHAT?" Nebetaruk howled, walking right up to the ork. But before he could do anything else. He was shot back like a rocket. He was slammed against a mast, and he could hear it crack slightly, as the ship was thrusted forward. Nebetaruk tried to look to the side what was happening. Where the rear of the ship was, a great fiery plume shot out. An explosion came from the back of the ship that sounded like a nuclear bomb going off.

"OOO I LUV DA SOUND OF 'SPLOSIONS IN DA MURNIN!" Mista Nailbrain screamed, his voice barely audible. The ship began to slow down, and seemed to make multiple skips on the water, each skip making Nebetaruk bounce on the hardwood. One of his optic sensors ceased to work, as a splinter dug into his left eye. The Nanoscarabs rushed out, but they quickly regretted their decision in a burst of code, as they weren't sent sprawling on the deck.

"Ha Ha Ha! OOOOWEEE DAT WUZ FUN." Mista Nailbrain shouted. Nebetaruk slowly rose up, his hand grabbing the splinter of wood embedded in his eye. His fingers wrapped around the wood, and yanked. Green sparks shot out from the shattered eye piece, as the Nano Scarabs began to clamber up his feet, quickly reaching his shattered eye, and began to fix it.

"I hate all of you." He grumbled.

"Dats da spirit!" Mista Nailbrain hooted, as he ran up to the steering wheel. Spookums slowly climbed out of the deck, and quickly hurled over the railing, making a rather unpleasurable noise.

"Roight, Spookums! Which way da we go!" Mista Nailbrain demanded. Spookums stopped retching, taking enough time to look at the map, and the compass in hand.

"Uhh… Left." He mumbled, as he then continued to puke into the sea

"Left! Alroight lads, ERE! WE! GO!" Mista Nailbrain shouted in excitement, as the whole ship did a 90 degree turn, nearly throwing Spookums overboard. Nebetaruk sighed, and clenched the mast with an iron grip. He was going to hate this.

/

Jaina took a sip of water, looking back at the nearly nine foot tall monster in front of her, who was currently guzzling down a whole barrel of ale. He wiped his mouth, letting out a large belch, as the keg fell out of his hands, smashing to the ground. It slowly rolled away from sight, as he wiped his mouth.

"Never had too many table manners, have you?" She casually said. The beast looked down at her, squinting with his one red eye, which glinted dangerously in the sunset glare. They had a staring contest for around thirty seconds, before he chuckled, adjusting his seat on the floor.

"So ya aint shiverin. Dats gud." He grumbled.

"So it was a test?" She asked, slightly confused. To this, he smiled.

"I loike gits dat have sum spoine." He replied, wiping his lips again of white froth that had gathered on his lips.

"So may I ask you a question? Or… a few?" She asked kindly. Bluddflagg gave her a surprised glance and waved her onward, as he adjusted his hat.

"Ehh… Go ahead, Oize drunk enuff anyways." He mumbled. She smiled, as she opened up her mental checklist.

"What happened to your eye?" She said, deciding to start things off simple. Bluddflagg froze, the carefree grin wiped off of his face completely.

"No one knows but me 'ow I lost me eye… and no one eva will…" He whispered, a voice that was so filled with anger and violence that Jaina shivered slightly.

"So… different question?" She asked, and he nodded.

"Alright… fine… how did you become 'kaptain'?" She asked. To this, he grinned, leaning back.

"Oh, it wuz eazee. I killed da last boss. Shanked 'i'm roight in da nekk wiff a fork. It wuz funny." He said, chuckling to himself. She raised an eyebrow.

"A fork?"

"Ya. A fork. Didnt eat him course. 'E wuznt called Rotgut fur a reason, he smelled loike shite, so i aint takin no chances."

"Alright… fair enough… so why do you wear a hat?"

"Well, datz a long story." He said, as he leaned back as much as he could, and began to speak.

"Ya see, when da boyz are just small lil runts, dey join da stormboy korps. Dey'z crazy littul buggas, and deyz insane, but every boy wuz a stormboy. Dey's weird. Dey wuld polish der shoes, and dey wuld do marches n stuff. Dey would also give each uvva medals, doe I fink we neva knew wot dey ment. So anyways, da old boss ad a gud idea un day. He found dis aweshum 'at, and made dis whole tournie, were da best stormboy gets it. So dere I wuz, a yung little runt Bluddflagg, and I wanted dat hat, and I wuld kill fer it. So I did. I killed each and every uvva git that wanted to take me proize, and at da end at it, me choppa wuz so zoggin bluddy dat da blade broke in two when I shukk it. Da boss wuz so proud of me, he made me 'is personal kickin runt. Wuz an hona. So I got da hat, and I drank till me liva sploded. Course, da dok found out and he catched me, beat me cold, toied me up, and did his fing. Scariest fing in me loife. Da dok patched me up doe, and didn't give me a squig transplant, so it wuz alroight." He explained. She took a few moments to think of something else. Though without a doubt he was a savage, bloodthirsty killer, he had some interesting stories. He was quite the unique orc.

"Klaus mentioned that you were a 'Freebooter'. So does that mean you're a pirate?"

"Poirate, and mercenary."  
"Mercenary? So if I pay you to do something, you will do it?"

"Long as I can make sum sort of profit outta it, den I'll do it."

"Interesting. What about your… trophies?" She asked, pointing to his trophy rack. He glanced up, as his one hand snaked across his back. She heard something pop, and the rack came off into his hand.

"So, wot ya want ta know?" He asked, as he waved the rack in the air. Jaina smiled slightly.

"We have some time. Why don't you start with that one?"

/

Deep in the icy fjord of Northrend, somewhere within the Ice Crown, the cold blizzard outside began to worsen. The air was thick and grey, like the color of smog. A singular pair of feet shuffled through the thick snow. One foot pressed down into the snow, making a hard imprint. Then another foot pressed down. Then a staff was pushed through the snow, making an audible crunch. This pattern continued to repeat itself, over and over again, until it stopped. An armored figure, nearly eight feet tall in length, watched the howling blizzard with mild curiosity. Such a strange place. He continued to walk down his path. Crunch. Crunch. Tap. Crunch. Crunch. Tap. Crunch. Crunch. Tap. Crunch. Crunch. Tap. Crunch. Crunch. Tap.

"What a wonderful place…" The figure whispered to himself. Thick mist poured out his mouth, spilling out like lava from his horned helmet. He opened one of his hands, and dark red fire burned through it. He began to channel it, until his entire gauntlet was covered in red fire. It burned gently, licking his armored hands like a dog.

"This world's knowledge and treasure shall be mine. Nothing shall stop me." Ahzek Ahriman mumbled, as he saw something in the howling blizzard. It was a large, mountain like citadel, made entirely from ice. Set on his new goal, he began to walk forward again. It was time this… precursor… knew his place.


	48. Chapter 48: Halloween Special

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

Welcome, to the Kriegcraft Halloween Special!

It was fun sifting through the wow wikis to find all of the best information about Halloween and such.

Anyways, I hope you can enjoy!

Mista Nailbrain looked down at the map, tracking the calculated route with his finger. It had been roughly a week or two since they had first set sail, and so far, they had not seen land in quite a while. Satisfied of the path that they were going, he looked up and barked at Spookums.

"Oi! Spookums! Weze goin da roight way!" He shouted.

"Alroight! Dats gud." He yelled back. Mista Nailbrain smiled, as he leaned on the edge of the railing of his masterpiece. It took quite a lot of work, but when Spookums suggested that he made a boat instead of a Dakkajet because apparently, their nearly wasn't enough dakka to make it a 'Dakkajet', which severely disappointed Mista Nailbrain, he settled on this. It was rather difficult too. He never made a boat before. Killa Kans, Deff Dreads, Mega Dreads, even a Gorkanaut, was no problem. A boat however, was a lot different. And it didn't help that the materials the tree huggers had were only wood and vines. He had to really go scraping through rubble and things to find steel and other metals, and even then, he had to go looting corpses while no one was looking to get the raw materials. He nearly used up all of his nails, bolts, and rivets making this thing, and he would be damned if his creation sunk. Mista Nailbrain was shook out of his thoughts, as a thick, purple fog started to roll over the dark waters. He growled, as slowly, his hands snaked around his back, unclipping the belt that held his Kustom Shoota.

"I fink we got troba." He shouted out. The Necron, who was currently toying with the strings to the sails, twirled his warscythe, green sparks shooting out from the twirling tip, making it appear like a green circle in the fog. Spookums took out his Slugga, while his other hand was still on the steering wheel.

"Keep your eyes open, and aware. The opposition could be anywhere." The Necron grumbled. For several minutes, they warily looked around, trying to keep their eyes open. However, the thick fog, or mist, blinded them. Like a cloak, it wrapped around the ship, making it eerily dark.

"Mista Nailbrain! Loight up sum lanterns why dont ya?" Spookums shouted. Mista Nailbrain nodded, as he ran to the center of the ship, where their was a large hatch. Fumbling with the handle, the hatch popped open, allowing him deeper access into the hull. He slid (or fell) down the ladder. After regaining his bearings, he began to walk through the narrow hallway of the looted ship, as eventually, he came across a large door. He pushed it open. It creaked open, letting out a squeal, as Mista Nailbrain stepped into the cargo room. This was where everything he had stolen, looted, or nicked, was. Crates of food, barrels of water and alcohol. Riches, Treasures, and Artifacts. He grabbed several lanterns, and slammed the door shut. He ran back to the ladder, and climbed back up.

"Alright lads! I got da-"

The whole ship was jerked forward, and Mista Nailbrain was sent over the railing screaming. Instead of falling into the dark waters, he fell into a pile of snow. He looked up, dazed.

"Oi… Wot… wot happened?"

/

Spookums was a calm ork, and that's saying something. As a Kommando, it was his top priority to not only be calm at all times, but also to be prepared for nearly every situation.

So when Spookums found out that for two weeks, Mista Nailbrain had been holding the map upside down the entire time, and also that Mista Nailbrain could barely read, Spookums decided to let out his anger in the only way he knew how.

"Oi me spleen!" Mista Nailbrain cried, as Spookums continued to kick the ork in the gut.

"YA! STOOPID! GIT! HOW! DA! ZOG! DO! YA! READ! A! MAP! UPSIDE! DOWN?!" He roared, as with one final kick, Mista Nailbrain retched all over Spookums squig hide boots, covering it in yellow and red vomit. Spookums snarled in anger, and was about to bring the foot down on Mista Nailbrains skull, when a cold metal hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Though it is his fault that he read the map wrong, we can still work this situation out." The Necron said coldly. Spookums sighed, giving Mista Nailbrain one last kick just to be sure.

"Alroight fine." Spookums growled, as he looked back at the ruins of the ship. Not much of it was left now anyways. They appeared to have ramed a large spire of rock, that the fog must have concealed. The broken lanterns had started a small fire, which was slowly growing larger.

"Roight. We gotta get da most stuf outta da ship for it all burns." Spookums decided. The Necron nodded, and strided towards the wreck of the ship. Spookums looked at the wreck that was Mista Nailbrain, who was still struggling to get up. Spookums offered him a hand, but Mista Nailbrain barred his teeth, shoving away his hand.

"I'm gunna kall da kaptin. Tell em dat weze aint headin ta feramore anymore." Mista Nailbrain said, taking out a small majik talkie.

"Do ya need help wiff spellin?" Spookums asked. Mista Nailbrain, though was an amazing Mek, wasn't the strongest speller. Or the strongest ork, for that matter. Mista Nailbrain vigorously shook his head in disapproval.

"Na. I fink I got it dis toime." Mista Nailbrain said proudly. Spookums sighed, as he began to jog back to the wreck of the ship. The Necron was currently hoisting a large batch of fruit, and vegetables away.

"How did you manage to steal all of this?" It asked coldly. Spookums smiled grimly, holding his hands in a placating gesture. He of course knew how he and Mista Nailbrain nicked all of this stuff, but they both agreed telling the Necron their trademarked methods wouldnt be a good idea.

"Ya aint eatin it, so ya dont need ta know." Spookums growled. The Necron decided not to push it anymore. Spookums started to search through the debris, fishing for shiny things. As he began searching through debris, one item peaked his interest. Fishing it out of wet wood, he found a rather interesting item. It looked like a weird, twisted horn, though not the kind you could stab someone with. It was a cylinder like thing, and was twisted and curved. A strange, beast like head was at the end of the thing. Spookums looked over at the design, frowning slightly. It certainly was a bad drinking cup, that was for sure. Maybe it wasn't a drinking cup. Maybe it was a food holder? Pocket expander? Anything? Deciding it might be worth a few coins or a drink, he tried to stash it away in his sack. However, this did not work, as the thing was rather large. So instead, he tied it to his belt, and patted it, hearing the rasp of his knuckles against the well… whatever it was made of anyways. A piece of the ship cracked, falling apart above him. He hissed, as one of the boards made a small burn on his shoulder, scarring his green flesh.

"Tin boy! We ain't gettin much outta dis wreck anyways! Lez go!" Spookums shouted. The Necron looked up, who was currently carrying a small barrel of what appeared to be liquid. The Necron glanced at the thing that was on Spookums hip for a few moments, before looking back up.

"Where did you find that?" It asked. Spookums raised an eyebrow.

"Found it." He replied. The Necron did not say anything, but turned his head slightly, giving Mista Nailbrain such a powerful glare it was like the Necron was shooting beams at Mista Nailbrain, who noticed full heartedly.

"Spookums? Da Kapn wants ta talk ta ya. And he's mad…" Mista Nailbrain mumbled in fear, sticking out his paw, which the majik talkie was held. Spookums gulped, taking the object in his hand, and gently putting it to his ear.

"Um… hi… Kapn…" He mumbled in fear. Bluddflagg's rage was something of legend. It was rather easy to annoy him, or make him mad. But to make him furious, make him rage, took a special kind of thing. And as Spookums heard his kaptain roar on the other side of that majik talkie, he could feel a wet stain forming in his pants.

/

"WOT DID YA DO!" Bluddflagg roared out loud, getting a confused glance from Klaus.

"We um… Well…" Spookums whispered, trying to get his words out, when Bluddflagg interrupted him.

"I know wot ya zoggin did, cuz Mista Nailbrain told me already, but how da zog do ya read a map rong, den sail fer two weeks straight in da rong direction?"

"Mista Nailbrains a speshul type of stupid, kapn…" Spookums mumbled.

"Oi! I herd dat, ya panzee!" Bluddflagg could hear Mista Nailbrain shout.

"Oh yeah? Well fite me fur it, ya big mouthed yabba!" Spookums shouted back. Bluddflagg sighed, rubbing his face, as he could hear his krew members fighting each other over the radio.

"Sounds like you're having fun." Klaus said behind his back. Bluddflagg growled, looking at the humie, who was currently looking at jewelry, of all things.

"Just zoggin pick sumfing, ya indecisive mollusk." Bluddflagg snarled at him. Klaus bit his lip, looking back at the stall, and the old crow that ran it. Bluddflagg fumed silently, as he could hear Mista Nailbrain screaming 'Mercy! Mercy!' in the background.

"Roight kapn, weze back online. So uh… now wot do we do?" Spookums asked. Bluddflagg mumbled something to himself, rubbing his face again.

"Roight, do ya even know were da zog yoo are?" He demanded, his red eye looking around cautiously. He was still paranoid about being in a town quite literally full of humies. They somewhat trusted him, thanks to Klaus, but they still acted nervous around him.

"Erm… no… I dont fink so." Spookums grumbled. Bluddflagg sighed, scratching an itch with his power klaw. He regretted it, as blood began to pool out from his now reopened scars on his leg.

"Alright… foine. Go find sum boyz, and foind out where da zog yoo are. And if ya muck dis up, both of ya twats are gonna get an assbeatinso hard, its gunna be worth legend." Bluddflagg growled, as he turned off the majik talkie, and shoved it in his coat.

"So, what did your accomplices do now?" Klaus asked, as he finally counted enough gold bits, sliding it forward to the old lady. She smiled, her wrinkled old face moving with the gesture, as he took the necklace.

"Dey zogged up. Big toime." He replied curtily. Klaus raised an eyebrow, as the two began to walk down the cobblestone streets.

"And that is?" He asked. Bluddflagg snorted.

"Dey ended up on da wrong zoggin continent." He mumbled.

"To be expected, considering an orks intelligence, and their sense of direction." Klaus merely said, with a bit of humor in his voice. Bluddflagg didn't appreciate it.

"Oh go zog yerself." Bluddflagg growled. The two were silent for a few moments.

"So why da hell did it take ya ten minutes ta buy some shiny bitz?" Bluddflagg said, deciding it was time to pick on someone small.

"That is none of your concern, greenskin." Klaus snarled. Bluddflagg raised an eyebrow. The runt had guts talking to him like that.

"Ya forked ova quite a lot of bitz." He added on. Klaus sighed, displeasure in his voice.

"I have heard that in a few days, there is a holiday, called Hallow's End. It is a day where the realms of the living and the dead come close to each other, so that the living can commune with the dead, and give gifts to remember them, or to appease them. They then burn something called a 'Wickerman' to celebrate." He explained.

"So… dey talkin to… ghosts?" Bluddflagg asked, slightly confused. Klaus shrugged.

"It seems to the be the explanation of the holiday, though perhaps there is a deeper meaning that I cannot seem to understand." Klaus replied.

"So why day hell do yoo kare?" Bluddflagg demanded. Klaus was silent for several seconds.

"It is a personal reason." He merely said. Bluddflagg shrugged mentally. Let the humie have his fun, he guessed.

/

Nebetaruk dearly wished he had ears, so he could brutally rip them off. But he did not have ears, so he was forced to listen to the greenskins constant bickering.

"I aint trustin ya wiff da map again!"

"Oh yeah? Says da squinty eyed squig kissa!"

"Un eyed oaf!"  
"Ya four finga panzee!"

"Bad Moon Fatarse!"

"OI! YOO BETTA TAKE DAT BACK, SWEAR ON ME SQUIG!"

"YA CAN KISS MY ARSE, YA TWAT!"

Mista Nailbrain snarled, tackling Spookums, as the two began to lay blows onto each other. Again. Nebetaruk counted the amount of steps he had taken, and started to do some calculations. He idly waited as Spookums started to strangle Mista Nailbrain, as the calculation program finished. Glancing at the results, he frowned mentally. It had taken nearly two hours, but they had finally walked half a mile. They probably would have gone further, if not for the fact that the two had been fighting nearly every ten minutes. He glanced down at the two fighting orks, as Mista Nailbrain began to bash Spookums head into the dirt. Finally deciding they had enough, he took several steps forward, grabbing Mista Nailbrain by the collar of his filthy tunic. The ork howled in surprise, as Nebetaruk lifted the squirming ork like a toy, and casually threw him to the ground.

"Enough of your bickering. My patience can only last so long." He growled threateningly. Mista Nailbrain snarled at him from the ground, as he slowly got up, shaking himself of both dirt and snow. Spookums cracked several knuckles, slowly getting himself into conduct. Nebetaruk looked up into the sky, noticing a small smoke trail, not too far in the distance.

"Come now. I see smoke up ahead. This means that someone is there, or has been there. We can find the location of where we are." Nebetaruk said, pointing to the smoke trail in the snowy sky. The two orks looked up at the trail and nodded, as they continued to trudge through the snow.

"He started it doe…" Mista Nailbrain mumbled from under his breath. Nebetaruk howled in anger, backhanding Mista Nailbrain so hard the ork was sent flying, smacking into a small tree. The whole tree cracked with the force of the blow, and the ork slumped to the ground. Spookums whistled, as he came over, grabbing Mista Nailbrains wrist, holding it for a few seconds.

"Hm. Dat wuz a propa smack." Spookums said, as he began to drag Mista Nailbrains unconscious body through the snow.

"The second hardest smack you will see today if you don't keep moving." Nebetaruk snarled. Spookums whistled, obviously taking the hint. They kept walking for another twenty minutes, before they stopped.

"Da sturm is getting wurse. I fink we shuld wait it out." Spookums suggested. Nebetaruk thought for several moments, before he nodded.

"Very well. We shall make camp there." He said, pointing to a distant cave, barely in sight. Spookums sighed, as the two began to drag Mista Nailbrain to the cave.

/

Klaus carefully looked at the cards in his hand, and then back at the board. His opponent had put up a tough game, which was rather surprising, considering who it was. However, this game had gone on for far too long. This game, was going to end. Now. Klaus drew a card from the deck in the center of the table, looking it over for a few moments, before nodding. Looking down at his hand, he began to formulate a plan. Finally, he smiled mentally. He selected one, singular card from his hand, and gently put it down on the table. He slided it forward with a single finger, and leaned back in his seat, allowing himself a small smirk.

"ZOG!" Bluddflagg roared in anger, flipping the playing table over in his rage. Klaus slid out of the way, as the table smashed into his chair, ripping it asunder. The crowd that had surrounded them cheered aloud, clapping fiercely, as Bluddflagg stormed out of the tavern.

"ZOGGIN MYSTERIOUS CHALLENGER! WHO DA ZOG THOUGHT DAT WUZ A GUD IDEA?!" He shouted aloud, as he disappeared from sight. The crowd slowly dispersed, and Klaus rose up from the ground, and grabbed a new chair, putting the table back into position. He sighed, looking out the window for a few minutes, before glancing down. In his hand, was a small pendant. His, small pendant. He opened his hand, hearing the leather of his glove rasping together, crinkling slightly. It was a silver chain, with small beads of bronze weaved in between each link. The pendant itself had a small stone. It was a small rock, something called a geode, as the shopkeeper had said. It looked like an ordinary rock on the outside, but as it was cut in half, it revealed sapphire blue colored crystals, that poked out like fibers in a ripped shirt. Blue colored crystals. Blue. It was her favorite color. He clenched his fist, hearing his gloves crinkle in his touch.

"What's that?" A familiar voice asked. Klaus jumped, snarling. Lofn let herself have a giggle, though she still stood with a somewhat serious posture. She wore her black robes, as usual, though her posture was rather strange to begin with. Klaus took this in mind.

"What's that?" She repeated, calmly. Klaus exhaled harshly, turning away.

"Nothing that concerns you." He replied sharply.

"Are you sure?" She asked again, concern in her voice. Klaus swore he saw something move right behind her, but he couldn't be sure.

"Positive." He replied. They were silent for a few moments, as they had a test of will, as they both stared each other down.

"Anyways, I wanted to ask you something." She replied, as someone stepped out from behind her. He grunted in surprise at who it was. It was a small human girl, perhaps the age of seven. She was wearing commoner clothes, involving a scruffy white and red dress. Her black pair was tied into a ponytail. She smiled, her forest green eyes dancing with happiness. Klaus took a few moments to think, and one thought came into his mind, one that he dearly hoped was not true.

"You adopted a child?" He said in confusion. Lofn shook her head, smiling.

"No, silly! You see, there's an orphanage not far from here, and they need volunteers to help children with… whatever they do for this 'Hallow's End.'" She began to explain. Klaus shot the child a glare, who shuffled back partly behind Lofn's leg, which slightly confused Klaus. Never had he seen a human child find comfort with an abhuman, then an Imperial Guardsman. True, the Death Korps never had a good record with handling civilians, but still…

"So I was wondering, if you wanted to come with me and Isabella." Lofn finished, bringing Klaus out of his thoughts. He glanced back at the now named Isabella, then back at Lofn. She seemed rather excited to do something in which she had no idea what she was required to do. What if it contained something rather foul, or malicious?

"Pardon?" He said, slightly confused. A painful itch came from the back of his skull, and he began scratching it in order to soothe the pain. Lofn sighed.

"So I was wondering, if you wanted to come with us." She repeated, her voice a tad bit more stern. Klaus was about to say no, when he heard himself say 'Fine'. They both shared the same confused look on their face. Apparently, she had not been expecting such an answer. Neither had he. Klaus yet again tried to say no, but his mouth could not physically open. He considered writing No on a piece of paper, but the thought suddenly disappeared from his head.

"Alright, well come on!" Lofn smiled, grabbing Klaus's hand. As what was left of his dignity was slowly burned away, Klaus started to wonder who was the one being dragged, him or the child.

/

With one final heave, Spookums threw Mista Nailbrain's body next to the roaring fire. The ork made chattering noises, as he curled up into a ball, the chains that kept his armor in place heating up from the fire, warming his ice covered skin. Spookums collapsed on a small log of wood, as the Necron came into the cave, dragging a long log of pine wood. He began to cut it without problems, his large choppa cutting through wood with pathetic ease, and scary accuracy. Each piece rolled slowly towards Spookums squig hide boot, tapping lightly against his green toes within. Spookums grabbed the piece of wood, and chucked into the fire, where the burning orange embers greedily consumed it.

"Mista Nailbrain, yoo alroight?" Spookums asked, looking back at the Mek. Mista Nailbrain nodded, though he was wrapping himself with as many pelts and furs as he could. Spookums sighed, as he slipped off his greatcoat, revealing his bare arms, and bulging muscles. He wrapped it around Mista Nailbrain, and walked back to his side of the fire, scooting close to the flame. The blizzard outside was not kind, and the shrieking wind battered the cave walls like their was no tomorrow.

"I believe that this fireplace should suffice." The Necron grumbled, as it sat down between the two orks. The three of them looked into the fire, two and a half pairs of eyes all watching the dancing flames. The red and orange flames danced with each other, like two graceful ballerinas. The wood was their stage, the trio of outcast, loonie, and loner their audience. The flames twirled and jumped, leaped and cracked. They were silent for nearly ten minutes, none daring to speak a single word. Finally, The Necron arose. Mista Nailbrain and Spookums glanced at each other, and then back at the Necron. The Necron grabbed a flaming stick from the fire, not too caring that the flame had engulfed his hand, and was slowly licking at the black metal of his hand.

"Da zog are ya doin?" Spookums asked in confusion, as the Necron started to walk deeper and deeper into the cave. The two orks glanced at each other, and muttered curses underneath their breath, as Spookums grabbed a flaming piece of wood, careful not to grab the actual flaming part. They ran after the Necron, trying to follow him. The tunnel began to glow with faint blue light, as strange neon blue mushrooms and fungus sprouted from the corners of the caves. Mista Nailbrain slowed down, snatching a mushroom. Mista Nailbrain looked over the shroom in his hand, before he grinned.

"Don't even fink about it." Spookums snarled.

"But I'm hangry!" Mista Nailbrain whined.

"Lookat ya! Yooze soundin loike a snotlin gorgin himself on shrooms!" Spookums growled. To this, Mista Nailbrain popped the glowing mushroom in his mouth, chewing it. As if to show it off, he opened his mouth, revealing a faint blue glow within his dark maw.

"Dont ya know any mannas?" Spookums chuckled. Mista Nailbrain scratched his head.

"How do ya spell dat?" He asked, slightly confused. To this, Spookums smacked his own face so hard that his goggles left an imprint.

"Neva zoggin moind, we gotta find da tin boy." Spookums declared. Mista Nailbrain sighed, as they slowly began to track the Metal Boy's footprints. Soon, it led to a large hole, deep in the ground. It was pitch black down in the hole, and Spookums could not see a thing. He dropped the torch. It spiralled down, after several seconds, it landed with a thump. Extinguishing the light.

"Roight, weze goin down." Mista Nailbrain declared, as he jumped down. Spookums waited, until he heard Mista Nailbrain shout something back up.

"Roight, its klear!" He shouted aloud. Spookums jumped down, landing hard on the rocks below him. It was pitch black, and he could hardly see a thing.

"Pass ya shoota." Spookums demanded. Mista Nailbrain mumbled something under his breath, shoving his Kustom Shoota into Spookums hands. Spookums fumbled with the shoota for several moments, before pressing a button at random. A bright puff of orange flame shot out from the barrel.

Hundreds of Red eyes were revealed, with arachnid faces and features. Dozens of mandibles clicked and clacked together, hungrily looking at the two orks. The flame died out, as the gun made an audible click. Jammed. The two orks looked at each other in a stroke of shock. Mista Nailbrain opened his mouth to scream, but a chitinous limb gently placed its sharp tip on his chin, and slowly closed it.

"Zog." Spookums mumbled.

Webs shot out from the dark, ensnaring the orks. They howled in anger and surprise, as they were quickly dragged away by the chittering beasts, only leaving a pair of goggles where they once stood.

/

"This is possibly one of the most stupidest, idiotic, disgraceful, embarrassing, and shameful things I ever had to do." Klaus mumbled. Lofn sighed, looking away. Didn't he have any concept of fun?

"Trick or Treat!" Isabella said, giving the woman behind the door a large, wide grin. The woman smiled, putting several candies and treats within the cloth sack that Isabella had. The woman looked up, slightly confused of who were escorting them.

"You are the parents?" The woman asked, slightly confused. Klaus eyes widened in surprise from behind his mask, while Lofn merely laughed.

"No. Chaperones would be a better word." She replied.

"Ah. I see. Volunteers then?" The woman retorted, glancing at Klaus. He was still in his full uniform, and his menacing visage certainly had an effect, though his gasmask was hanging on his belt. The woman glanced back at Lofn and smiled.

"Anyways. Happy Hallow's End!" She said, as she slowly closed the door. It had been roughly an hour or so since the so called 'Trick or Treating' had begun, and Lofn had to admit, it was fun. Fun was a concept that she had not experienced a lot on the Craftworld, and it was something she cherished here. On the opposite side of the spectrum, Klaus absolutely hated Trick or Treating.

"I don't understand how this is supposed to be 'fun.'" Klaus mumbled to himself. Lofn glanced at Isabella, who was currently looking through her bag. Suddenly, she had an idea.

"Could I borrow a piece?" She asked softly. Isabella smiled, giving her a small piece of 'candy'. Lofn looked at intently for a few moments, before she grinned, looking over her shoulder. He was still ranting, though he kept his voice quiet to a mumble.

"Fun… you know what's fun? Drill Marches! Boot Polishing! Trench Warfare! Not this, trick or treating? What's the the trick? What's the trea-" He said, interrupted as Lofn shoved a lollipop in his gaping mouth. He grunted in surprise. She and Isabella giggled,as Klaus fumbled with the handle, pulling it out. Wet saliva dribbled down his chin, and he gave a glance at Lofn that was filled with anger.

"So. How was it?" She asked playfully. He glanced back at the piece of candy. It was a round, circular disk, stuck on a piece of wood as a handle, she assumed. He glanced back at her, and then the piece of candy.

"Shut up." He replied, as he put it back in his mouth.

"Miss Ulthran! Let's go see the wickerman burning!" Isabella said in delight. Lofn glanced at the child. She reminded her of someone, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Wickerman… isn't that some sort of totem, or artifact?" Klaus asked, taking the piece of candy out of his mouth. Before he had a reply, the child grabbed his hand, and tried to drag him in the intended direction. Lofn winced, fearing the inevitable repercussion from Klaus, whether verbal or physical. However, to her surprise, he did neither. He let himself be pulled by the child, though he shot her a look that was very clear.

He was nervous. He was worried. Not about the child, but about something else.

/

"Those… wretches… have escaped from my grasp for the last time…" Sylvanas hissed, pacing around within the confines of her throne room. Ever since the so called Battle of the Undercity, Thrall had posted guards nearly everywhere. The savage brute said it was to 'improve the defences, and prevent another invasion.' A rather obvious, silly, and thinly veiled attempt to not only keep her in line, but to prevent such an event such as the Wrath Gate to happen again. Though she would have pointed it out it was the rebel's plan in the first place, she couldn't easily defend the fact that her Royal Apothecary had developed the plague in the first place.

The plague. A disease that should have rivalled the pox that the sorcerer Kle'thuzad had released years ago. A way to ease her suffering, and loneliness. Why should she suffer by herself, when everyone else could suffer with her? Now, that plan was completely ruined. Destroyed. However, she still had more. She always, had more.

Sylvanas was in her throne room, alone, except for one person. Clea Deathstrider. One of her newer Dark Rangers, she had proved promising during her training. And now, she was the only one who knew anything about what she had in mind.

"The alliance counter attack could not have been planned for, Dark Lady." Clea mumbled, trying to be helpful, though it failed. Badly. Sylvanas shot her a glance that kept her silent. For now.

"No, it could have been planned for. What business the alliance even had here to begin with is something that I may not ever know. But I do know one thing." She said, as she stopped pacing around, glancing at Clea for a few moments, before looking away.

"This party of… adventurers, for a lack of a better term… they intrigue me." Sylvanas said aloud, as she started to pace around her throne room once more, her high heels clicking against the ancient, worn stone of the royal throne room.

"You seem… obsessive." Clea pointed out. Sylvanas snapped her head to the Dark Ranger, who twitched slightly, under the baleful red glare of her eyes.

"They have technology that outdates anything ever made, magic never before encountered, and wield weapons that swipes enemies asunder. Obsessive I may be, but it is not without a purpose." She retorted, keeping the Dark Ranger back in her place.

"And I will have them serve me. Willing, or not." She growled, before she glanced back at Clea. She furrowed her eyebrows, as she slowly walked up to her.

"You said that they had an… agenda… What was it?" She demanded. Clea was silent for a few moments, before she replied.

"They said they were going after the Lich King." Clea replied. Sylvanas snorted slightly.

"Then you have your orders. They should be in Northrend by now. Travel there, and find them, and bring them here." She said, before pausing for a few moments. She let herself have a very rare smirk.

"Dead, or Alive." She finished. Clea nodded, as she strolled out of the throne room, closing the door behind her. As several orc guards came through the door again, She sighed, and started to think once more.

/

Klaus closed the door to his room, slowly turning the lock. He could still see the smoke coming from the center of the town, where the so called Wickerman still burned, though by the time he left, he was rather sure their was nothing of it left anyways. Hallow's End was certainly a… interesting holiday. It was a weird feeling, one that he had not felt before in a long time.

Speaking of which.

He started to blow out the many candles that lit his room. One after another, each candle suffered the same fate. The orange glow of the flame was extinguished, the molten wax started to dry. Only three candles were left, illuminating a piece of paper, held inside of a small picture frame. Klaus took several, slow steps forward. His boots tapped against the wooden floor. _Tap. Tap. Tap_. He stopped, looking down at the picture in front of him. It was her. 435612-983610. He kneeled down to the ground, making himself eye level on the drawer that the picture was on.

"Karen. I don't know if you can hear me." He said, being silent for a few moments.

"I don't know if you can see me." He continued.

"I don't know if you even exist." He finished. Silence spread out throughout the room like insects on a corpse.

"But if you can hear me. If you can see me. If you do exist. Forgive me."

He didn't know what to say, but he started to piece together a response.

"Do you remember when we first met?" He asked quietly, knowing he would not receive an answer.

"Thirteen years ago. Schola Code Number 7732-KEN. Battlefield Tactics, Stratagems, and Weapons Training. BTSW for short. We were assigned partners for learning how to properly use a Lucius Pattern Lasgun. We competed to see how quick we could disassemble and reassemble it. We always got the same time, no matter how hard we tried. Twenty one seconds and two hundred, thirty seven milliseconds." Another long pause followed.

"Do you remember our first campaign together? Where we earned our personal names?" He asked solemnly.

No Answer.

"Five years later. The joint campaign with the 22nd Vostroyan Firstborn against the Tyranids. Those undisciplined, unruly drunks… Remember them?" He asked, noting that a bit of anger had gotten in is voice. He really, did not like the Vostroyans. He put aside his grudge against those peach fuzz mustache wearers for a different time, as he continued to go through his memory.

"Battle of Garden Square. Nikzar Alpharium. During an melee engagement with Tyranids, one Hormagaunt got lucky, and jumped me. Had its talons stuck. Right in my shoulder blades. Damn thing died before it could pull them out. So firmly lodged in my shoulder I spent the next two days trying to pull it out. Those bumbling mongrels called me 'Klaws' until the campaign was over. Even some of the others in our Regiment said it in morse code." He said, smirking slightly. It slowly dissolved away, as he looked back at the paper.

"Do you remember how you got your personal name?" He said softly. Memories were flooding through his head, memories he had kept locked away, long, long ago.

"Word got to the Watchmaster about this so called 'Klaws'. I thought he would have shot me, but he said somehow, it helped with the morale. I guess when you're facing something as scary as Tyranids, you need something to laugh at. Surgery was required, as the barbs in tip of the claw had it lodged firmly in. You didn't leave my side until it was over. You didn't leave my side while I was recovering. Karing. Karen." He mumbled. Another pause lasted. He swore that the air in his room felt colder. None of the windows were open.

"Do you remember our last campaign together?" He asked softly.

No answer.

"Operations with the Third Chapter of the Salamanders, along with the Sisters of Battle. A campaign against the blasphemous Word Bearers, and their traitor guardsmen allies. One of the most devastating campaigns in the regiment's history. Sixty percent casualties. We had been Grenadiers for three years now. Martyred in our Lord's service, yet our corpses still walked and talked and fought. We were there for three months. We kept a tally of how many times we saved each other. You won. Score was 17 to 14." He mumbled.

"Do you remember your induction?" He said softly, biting his lip.

No answer.

"Your efforts with the Ordos Hereticus did not go unnoticed. Inquisitor Hastortes was impressed. He took you in as part of his retinue. You could not have denied it." He mumbled. Silence.

"He made an… offer. He had heard of the unusual… 'bond' we had together. Thirteen years. Thirteen long, and hard years that we stuck together. Not counting warp travel." He added on. It was like someone poured cement in his throat, as he found his next words difficult to get out.

"He offered me to come with you. While you were forced… I… I had a choice… I… I refused." He said, finally spitting it out with difficulty.

"Do you remember… Do you remember how you died?" He asked softly.

No answer. The room had gotten colder now. So much so that he began to shiver slightly.

"The Inquisitor said you went down like a Grenadier should. You fought off a group of Eldar while the Inquisitor called in reinforcements. You almost made it too. Hell, you even got one of their blasted psykers. But one… one made it through your guard." Klaus mumbled. He didnt speak for an agonizing long two minutes. It was if time had come to a stop.

"Karen. I don't know if you really are a ghost, or merely a creation of my blasted imagination, something to keep me company in these dark, and confusing times. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. But I ask you. Please. Leave me be. Their will be a time that when I lie on my deathbed, I know you will wait for me at the Golden Gates, near the Golden Throne, on Terra. I know that we will be together for the rest of all time, for the one day we shall be brought back to fight the last, and final battle against the forces of chaos. And… And I know that we shall fight side by side. But it is not this time." He said solemnly, as he gently laid the geode necklace in front of the pictured frame.

"Take this as a gift. To keep you company." he explained, as if she could possibly hear him. Klaus felt something wrap around his neck. He glanced down in confusion. Nothing was there, but he could feel a deathly chill around his neck.

"Please. Forgive me." He said silently, as he slowly walked to his bed, unaware of a certain nosy intruder outside of his door.


	49. Chapter 49: The Black Golems

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!  
Sorry this one is short (and late), but I would say it would be a prelude of whats coming next.

Next chapter is going to be BIG.

Anyways, hope you can enjoy!

Spookums slowly opened one eye. Then another. He immediately regretted it.

A arachnid like beast greeted him, hungry red eyes looking over him. Its clawed hands reached out, dragging Spookums by his legs on the cold stone floor. Spookums thrashed and struggled, but realised it was futile, as he was covered in a sticky, white, and though he didn't want to necessarily admit it, silky fabric.

"Oi! Da zog are ya takin me!" He snarled out. The spider creature cackled, its mandibles clicking and pressing together, as it continued to drag Spookums around. Spookums suddenly had an idea. His assasshuns knoife was in his belt. If he could just… worm his hand in their, and take it out…

Desperate to free himself, Spookums tried to worm his arm through. He grunted and growled in pain, as the webs that had contained him were rather strong, and he was having trouble worming his hand to his belt. His fingers barely scraped the handle of the knife, before his head smacked onto a rock. His kunning plan suddenly forgotten, he decided to start cursing at the spider creature. To his surprise, it responded back.

"Be silent… brute. The Unraveler wishes to speak with your… comrades." It growled back, in surprising gothic. Spookums raised an eyebrow, though he still continued to reach for his knife, but he found it to be futile. He gave up, and now played a deadly game with the rocks that littered the dark and humid tunnel, trying to keep his head safe from any pebbles that would try and smack him. Soon, the Spider like creature stopped, dragging Spookums by the feet, and dropping him. Spookums grunted, as the impact made him jostle, as he slowly rolled away.

"Good. You may now leave." A distant, and deep voice said. The creature seemed surprised, its eyes widening slightly.

"But… But-" It said, stuttering slightly, before it was quickly interrupted.

"Leave. Now." The other voice snapped. The spider creature clicked its mandibles, bowing slightly, as its six legs scuttled up the rockface, disappearing.

"Ah. So this is your companion?" It asked quietly, as Spookums could hear it creeping forward. Spookums growled, as his fingers grasped the handle of the assashuns knoife. His brain was already calculating the perfect distance of where to stab the creature.

"Yes. He is. Cut him loose." A much more familiar, metallic voice grumbled. Spookums opened his eyes wide in surprise, as a black and green blade came down on him. He howled in surprise, closing his eyes, waiting for the end. The sound of webs being cut made him open his eyes. The Necron stood above him, as well as a tan, or albino spider like creature stared at him, its sharp talons poised.

"Wot da zog is dis?" He demanded. The Necron didn't say much, only throwing Spookums kustom shoota at his feet.

"Come now. We have much to talk about. And much to do. Kilix. Care to show me?" The Necron asked. The now named Kilix nodded its strangely shaped head.

"Very well. However, we must be careful. The Anub'ar have found out about your coming. The betrayers will do anything in their power to stop you." Kilix grumbled, as another wriggling cocoon was brought into the dark chamber. It was cut open in a similar fashion, sending a sprawling Mista Nailbrain to the ground. The spider that brought him left as well.

"Then nothing will stop us." The Necron said, as the two began to leave. The orks looked at each other, confused as shit, but reluctantly followed after them.

/

Klaus lazily opened one of his eyes. And then the other. Golden sunlight streamed in from the windows. It was a wonderful sight, as it slowly creeped up from his rather comfortable blanket, to his black undershirt.

And then into his eyes.

He cursed aloud, rubbing his eyes with his fists. He moved his legs to stand, but instead of this, he rolled off the bed, landing face first into the wood. He slowly rose himself, grabbing one of the posts to his bed to support his weight. The first thing he noticed was the shrine that was on the cabinet on the other side of the room. The candles were still lit. The wax that still held it together had not melted at all. Someone had to have replaced them, and then lit them. Otherwise, the candle would have burned itself out. But that was impossible. He had locked the doors. Another thing that he noticed had been missing was both the picture frame, and the necklace as well. The picture itself was still on the table.

"Let's hope it's a good sign…" He mumbled. He glanced back at his armor, which had been hung on a rack by the window. He started to walk forward, his bare feet rasping against the fine wood of his room. He slipped on his socks, and began to tie his boots.

"Your ship is coming." A familiar voice said. Klaus raised an eyebrow, as he continued to put on his boots.

"Legion. I've noticed that you like to come in uninvited. And when I'm alone. Care to explain?" He asked, as he finished fitting on his left boot, and then moved onto his right.

"I would prefer if the others did not know of my existence." Legion replied, slowly walking up to the cabinet that had the candles lit.

"Scared?" He asked teasingly.

"The Adeptus Astartes know no fear, for we are fear incarnate." Legion quoted, as he put his black, armored finger in the small flame of a candle. It licked the black metal of his finger, splitting into two halves, then rejoining each other on the top of his finger, conjoined together.

"Do you see, Klaus? Do you see how this flame is split in half by my finger? One flame turns into two, and then at the end of their great journey, they are one again. Marvelous, is it not?" He asked. Klaus paused for a moment, lost by his words. Legion merely sighed, retracting his finger, taking the picture in his hands. Klaus flinched, but then Legion carefully put the picture back down.

"Legion. I have a question. You mentioned that you were the collective of fallen space marines. If that is true, then why do you not use pronouns such as 'We' instead of 'I'?" He asked, glancing back at Legion.

"It's complicated." He merely said, coming up to the door. His large hands made the small door knob look like a toy, as he somehow turned the lock on the door.

"What are you doing?" Klaus asked, as Legion stepped back.

"I have one thing to tell you Klaus." Legion mysteriously said, as Klaus could hear light footsteps quickly approaching.

"And that is?" He asked, finally fitting on his other boot.

"Our destiny is formed by every decision you make. Make the right ones, for both of our sakes." Legion simply said, as he disappeared in a fiery, red torrent of flame. Several knocks rang on the door.

"Klaus? Are you awake?" Lofn said, from behind the door. He snorted. At least she had learned some decency.

"Come in." He merely said, as he stood up. The door was shoved open, and Lofn stood in the doorway, giddy and excited. Klaus raised an eyebrow, glancing down at his armor. It still waited for him, as well as his gasmask, its fiery orange and yellow lenses glancing back at him, faintly showing his reflection.

"The ship is coming today. Just wanted to know if you were ready." She merely said, putting her hand on the bed post.

"I can handle myself. Where's Bluddflagg? I thought you said to 'always keep an eye on him'?" He asked, as slowly he began to put on his greatcoat. The new plates of armor integrated into the greatcoat made it a lot more difficult to put on without tearing or ruffling, so he had to be slow, and deliberate.

"Well, I did say that, but don't worry. He drank himself near to death yesterday. He passed out by the pier." She said, smiling slightly.

"Pity." Klaus merely said, earning a sigh from Lofn.

"Don't you care at all about him? At least, maybe a little bit?" She asked. To this, he smirked.

"I don't care what the hell that green alcoholic brute does, as long as he doesn't go on a killing spree against innocent humans. I wouldn't want to waste a bolt shell on him, just to put an animal like him down." Klaus replied. Lofn frowned.

"He isn't an animal, you know." She said. Klaus raised an eyebrow.

"You're DEFENDING him?" He said, surprised. She sighed.

"At first, I thought he was the same as you did. A savage, unintelligent, and uncleanly brute. And to be honest, he hasn't changed much. But he's not as bad as you think he is." She admitted.

"Orks are a green cancer, that deserves to be stomped out like the infection it is from the galaxy. I can maybe see an especially heretical human defend them, or perhaps a particularly rogue Inquisitor, and maybe the Tau, with their 'Greater Good'... but when you say something like that… that, I cannot agree with." Klaus snapped. The two stared at each other, before Klaus sighed, as he continued to button his greatcoat from behind. With all of the new integrated armor, he had to painstakingly take off the buttons and close the seams from the front, and move it to the back. And now it was rather difficult to reach.

"Need help? She asked, noticing his difficulty.

"I can do it myself." He replied, hoping it would deter her from coming closer than necessary. It didn't work. She came closer, coming behind him. He could feel her fingers pressing against his coat, as she slowly, seemingly deliberately buttoned it. Then one of her fingers poked at one of his scars on his back. The trace of her finger was nearly euphoric, and he shivered.

"How did you get this?" She asked from behind him, as she did the next button.

"Shrapnel. Hurry up. We still have to drag that lame brute to the boat, and I am not looking forward to it." Klaus mumbled.

"Alright, settle down." She replied, as she continued to slowly button his coat. It was as if she was trying to prolong the experience, but why, he didn't know. They were silent for a few moments, before she started up the conversation again.

"So, are you excited?" She asked. He raised an eyebrow.

"Why would I be?" He asked.

"Because then this will all be over." She replied.

"What will be over?"

"You know… all of this, craziness."

"It will never be over. Unlike you, I have no way to get back. And even if I could, I would be charged with heresy."

"What do you mean, 'unlike you?'"

"You are a farseer, correct? You are important to your people. There must be a way for you to leave."

"You mean the Webway?"

"If that's what you call it, then yes."  
"It… it doesn't work like that."

"Explain."

"Well, in order to use the Webway, you would need a Webway Gate in order to access it."

"So how did you get here then?"

Lofn was silent, as she finally finished buttoning his greatcoat. She put her hands on his shoulders, and turned him around. She glanced down, looking at the gasmask at his feet. She slowly, deliberately knelt down, her pale fingers wrapping around the crest on his helmet and the rebreather of his gasmask.

"Heavy." She mumbled, as she slowly slipped the helmet on his head. The cold metal touched his hair, and then his skin. Then, she slowly put on his gasmask. It covered his face, darkening his vision, as his eyes quickly adjusted to the change of light. The golden lenses pressed against his eyes, and he could see as she slowly tightened the straps. He could feel the leather straps being pressed against his skull. She stepped back, and gently pushed against several crinkles and ruffles in his uniform. Klaus put a hand on the strap to the left, and loosened it slightly. He then grabbed the Gilded Bolter, which he had given the name, _Purgation_ , and put it over his shoulder. He took his power sword, and flicked on the power field. A blue corona of energy sparked from the blade, humming softly. He turned it off, and gently put it in his scheathe. They stared at each other for what seemed to be days, but eventually, she smiled, as she took his hand, and lead him out.

"Alright, let's go find the kaptin." She said. Klaus grabbed the picture on the cabinet, and closed the door behind them.

/

The Spider Lords were the pinnacle of Nerubian society. The elite amongst the spider men, and rulers of their people.

Now, they were all but shallow husks of them former selves. In some cases, quite literally. From Spider Lors, to Crypt Lords, after the devastating war of the spider. One particular Crypt Lord was now rather angry.

"You... have... WHAT?!" Anub'arak, the traitor king bellowed, his raspy and insectoid voice echoing throughout the ruined kingdom of Azjol-Nerub. The Crypt Fiend twitched and hissed under the king's furious gaze, as it repeated what it had said.

"A black golem. I saw a black golem." The Crypt Fiend hissed. Anub'arak roared in rage, bringing down his massive talons on the Crypt FIend. It didn't even let out a sound, as his massive claws impaled it straight through its neck. Dark green blood flooded out of it, as Anub'arak lifted the crypt fiend into the air, and ripped it into two pieces. He roared in anger, throwing the twitching pieces to the icy ground. Its blood slowly began to solidify, as Anub'arak waddled out of the chamber. The Black Golems. In the once vast libraries of Azjol-Nerub, he remembered stories of the Black Golems. They had come out of nowhere, and one day descended down into the kingdom. They fought with their wickedly sharp claws, and wore the skin of the fallen. They were driven back into the deepest parts of the kingdom, where supposedly, they had fallen into a deep sleep. Now one had awoken. If one had awoken… and reached the others that still slept...

"High Cultist." Anub'arak growled, feeling the orcs presence nearby. The orc came forward. Anub'arak looked at the pitiful cultist, and watched as it kneeled. He had no love for the Lich King, and his loyalty was forced. Yet this, pathetic wretch worshiped the Lich King like a god. The orcs grey skin was filled with cracks and wrinkles, like a child tried to make a sculpture, and failed. Rather miserably.

"My lord…" Zangus mumbled, looking up, his green eyes flaring with lunacy and madness.

"The Black Golems have awoken. No doubt it will try to revive its fallen brethren. Take your finest warriors, and destroy it." Anub'arak growled. Zangus seemed confused.

"Black Golems?" He asked, curiosity in his voice.

"Did I stutter, whelp?" Anub'arak growled, showing off his bloodstained claws to push the point. Zangus seemed to get it well enough.

"Very well, my lord. They will be destroyed. For the all king!" Zangus bellowed aloud, slamming a fist into his withered chest. Anub'arak twitched, his two eyes tracing every move Zangus made. Finally, he gave in, this mental battle lost.

"For the all king." He muttered. Zangus nodded in satisfaction, and quickly left, leaving footsteps in the frostbitten stone. Anub'arak glanced at the floor, realising that if Zangus failed, Azjol-Nerub would no longer be his.

/

Mista Nailbrain picked his nose. He could feel his finger digging in through the thick, slimy mucus. He took the finger out, and looked at his prize. Feeling satisfied, he popped it in his mouth.

"Pikkin yer nose again?" Spookums said teasingly from behind him. Mista Nailbrain hooted in surprise, jumping slightly.

"Silence. Both of you. We are in enemy territory." The Necron said from in front of them. The two orks became quiet once more, silently walking down the dark chamber. The spider creature, Kilix, as it was called, scuttled forward slowly, its claws tapping against each other.

"So uh… were weze goin?" Mista Nailbrain asked quietly.

"We head to the deepest parts of Azjol-Nerub. I know a path that can take us their. However, the traitor king knows that you are here, Black Golem. They will try everything in order to stop you." Kilix said, his mandibles clicking and clacking in order to form speech.

"So uh… weze bein sneaky?" Spookums asked softly.

"Yes. Stealth is a priority. Do not engage unless necessary." The Necron mumbled. Spookums grinned, while Mista Nailbrain swore softly. He hated sneaking around. That wasn't his thing, not at all. They continued to walk, until they came to a massive room. The two orks were in awe, looking at the massive room in front of them. Most of it was a rather large gate, covered in webs. The ancient stone and wood creaked softly, as a breeze came from between the gate. Corpses and skeletons littered the ground outside. Many lanterns and candles burned softly, giving the massive room an eerie glow.

"Behold. The Old Kingdom. Many horrors await us down there." Kilix mumbled, walking up to one of the corpses. He bent down (if he could) and grabbed a large double handed axe, and grasped it within its claws.

"Are you sure they are down there?" The Necron asked, turning to Kilix. He nodded his head.

"Indeed. It was a great risk coming by myself." Kilix replied.

"Then let us go." The Necron mumbled. The two came to the gate, and forced it open. A tidal wave of darkness spewed out, extinguishing many of the lights that remained.

"I dun lokie dis. Not one bit." Mista Nailbrain mumbled. Spookums shrugged.

"Well, look on da bright side. Weze gunna be killin pasty gits, right?" He suggested. Mista Nailbrain sighed.

"If we get outta dis, yooze buyin me a drink." Mista Nailbrain pointed out.

"Alroight, ya sourpuss." Spookums said.

The four of them began to walk down the spiraling staircase, unaware of the madness that awaited them.

/

Bluddflagg snorted, dully aware of the group of roughly twenty, burly sailors, and the gentle tickle of psychic energy that was desperately trying to drag him to the ship. All he noticed was how blue the sky was. Blue was a good color. Green was best, but red and blue are pretty good too. Red makes things go faster, Blue makes things lucky. What if… what if one added the three colors togethers. Green… Red… Blue… What would that make?

"Such simple thoughts, for such a cunning creature such as yourself. Wasted." A voice said. Bluddflagg raised an eyebrow and moaned.

"Oi…. wozz… wozzat?" He mumbled, a string of guttural growls tumbling out of his mouth.

"Such a wasted opportunity. I can only imagine what you are capable of… something… something more…"  
"Oi, ya smelly grot! Kum… kum on and foight me, ya shite!" Bluddflagg grumbled.

"I am afraid that won't be necessary. Tell me Bluddflagg… what is your definition of power?"

Bluddflagg scratched his head, nearly swatting someone in the process.

"Powa… Powa… Dats da sparky bloo stuff, roight?"

"No, you simpl… my… friend, Power is influence. Power, is well… power. Imagine Bluddflagg. Imagine ruling this entire world, and many more that will follow. Mortals of all kinds would bow at your feet. You would become… a god…"  
"Who da zog is dis anyways?"

"We have met before, but that is not important."

"Ta hell dat is."

"Come now… I'm only a voice in your head, that can offer you so much..."

"Well, if I can't shank ya... den I can't trust ya, so go zog yerself."

"Bluddflagg… what do you know of Fel…"

"Fell? Loike 'a grot fell down da well?'"

"No. Fel. Fel energy."

"Er…. maybe?"  
"Fel energy is a powerful substance… something that I see courses through your veins… but you are not like the others. The energy within you fights and struggles. Their is so much you could do with this… yet you stay your hand… why?"

"I… I uh… dun fink I understand?"

"In time, you will understand, and one day, you will thank me. Tommorow, you shall find a … 'gift'... a blessing to show you, what we can do for you… consider it free, but next time, we shall require something more…"

"Why did da squig fall down da well?"

"What?"  
"Cuz da squig was goin afta da grot! Ha! Aint dat! Aint dat funny?"  
"..."

"Roight?"

"I dont think I understand. We will talk soon… whether you like it or not."

"Good boi creepee and spooky git. Talk ta ya soon…" Bluddflagg mumbled, as finally he was dragged onto the boat, nearly making it tip. Two of the people that pulled the drunken beast shared a look of concern, glancing back down at him. They didn't have long though, before the boat began to sail away from the harbor, and into the sea once again.


	50. Chapter 50: Ahn'kahet (Part One)

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

Thanks for 100 follows (and 99 favorites)

Also, thank you for all of the support for making me keep going, you know?

Couldnt have done it without you.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Azjol-Nerub had several sections of the vast, underground kingdom. The first was Azjol-Nerub itself, which was divided into the Upper Kingdom and the Lower Kingdom. A once rich, and pristine sector of the Nerubian life, it had since become a puppet of its former self, now overrun by the undead. The Old Kingdom, or Ahn'kahet… The Old Kingdom was different. The Nerubians prefered to stay well below the surface world, but during the War of the Spider, when the Nerubians fought a desperate struggle against the Lich King and his slaves, they were forced to go deeper and deeper, as the relentless corpses of their friends and families continued to swell in number, and to push the Nerubians down. It was on one unfortunate and horrifying day, that the Nerubians had awoken the ancient evil within. The Faceless ones. Now, the Nerubians were nearly extinct, and the ones that still live waged a hopeless guerilla war against the undead, hoping to one day restore their kingdom to its former glory.

Kilix was one of those Nerubians that survived. He and his small, meager warband, wage such a war for years. Every day, every battle, every engagement wounded his warriors. Sometimes if they were particularly unlucky, they would have been killed. He used to have come to the conclusion that he was doomed to a life full of hopeless fighting.

This was until the Black Golem was found, along with its greenskin companions. He faintly remembered the Black Golems. Said to have came from the stars themselves, a short, yet incredibly bloody war followed after their arrival. They were driven deep into the Old Kingdom, where they for some reason, entered hibernation, never to awake again. However, this so called, Nebetaruk could wake them again, it had seemed. Such a thing was near madness, but Nebetaruk did not exhibit the same traits that the others had. While it had the black, metal like skin, and baleful green glow, it was wearing clothes that was not made of skin, and did not have the sharp claws for fingers.

Perhaps awakening the Black Golems was madness. In Fact, it most likely was. However, Madness was just what Kilix needed.

"We must be careful here. The denizens of Ahn'kahet are not to be trifled with. This part of Azjol-Nerub has been enthralled in war for years now. The Nerubians that still live, the Faceless ones, and more recently, the Scourge, and a cult, known as the Twilight Hammer." Kilix explained diligently.

"The Twilight Hammer?" Nebetaruk asked, curiosity in his metal voice. His greenskin companions had stopped for a quick pee break, and were currently doing it on a collapsed pillar.

"Yes. A cult of the surface dwellers origin that worship the accursed Old Gods." Kilix replied.

"Old Gods…" Nebetaruk mumbled, taking out a small, green cube in his hand. It seemed to made of something like glass, a dark green and black vortex on nearly every surface. Kilix could feel something… evil… dwelling in the cube. He could hear a whisper emanating from it. Release me…

"So where weze goin?" One of the greenskins asked, the notably larger one, wearing the silly goggles and dark blue tunic, followed with a scruffy red and blue jacket.

"We currently are heading to the Hall of the Conquered Kings. However, according to my sources, the Tomb resides in the place known as the Desecrated Altar. That is where the Twilight Hammer cult resides, and… the tomb of the Black Golems." Kilix mumbled.

"So uh… We get to kill stuff, yeah?" He asked in excitement, waving around his strange weapon in his hand.

"Yes. I guess you could say that." Kilix replied. The two greenskins started to chant in excitement, waving around their weapons happily.

"Silence. Both of you." Nebetaruk growled. The greenskins kept their mouth shut, yet still paced and hopped around, seemingly eager.

"Let us go. The more time we waste, the more Scourge will come for us." Kilix growled. Nebetaruk put away his green cube, and stopped moving. He was doing something, as his eyes changed brightness drastically and quickly, from nearly blinding to barely visible.

"Spookums. I fink he broke again." The smaller creature said, approaching Nebetaruk.

"Give him a kick, Mista Nailbrain. Shuld put his bits n gubbins back in place." the now named Spookums suggested. Mista Nailbrain nodded, and gave Nebetaruk a solid kick. He howled in pain shortly after, hopping around on one foot. Nebetaruk's eyes reverted back to its normal dimness, as he continued to move again.

"What was that?" Kilix asked quietly, as they continued to march, coming across a large bridge, made entirely of webs. Below that was a massive ravine, almost a scar carved deep into the earth itself.

"Nothing." Nebetaruk replied, as they stopped in front of the web bridge.

"I ain't steppin in dat shite again." Mista Nailbrain mumbled, as golden lightning shot down at him, making him disappear. Kilix opened his eyes in surprise and shock, seeing Mista Nailbrain now on the other side of the ravine. Kilix clicked his mandibles together, as he expertly darted across the bridge. Interesting.

/

"Back for a rematch?" Klaus asked, smirking slightly, as Bluddflagg tried to squeeze the playing table through the door in his room, somewhere within the galley of the ship.

"Yoo wuz cheatin." Bluddflagg growled, as he tried to push the table through, nearly breaking it.

"I think you're just angry that you lost." Klaus replied. Bluddflagg growled, his metal jaw letting out a huff of breath.

"Zog off." He growled, as with one final push, he shoved the table through the doorway. He squeezed himself through, the sweat glistening off of his body helping him to move through.

"Cards?" Klaus asked. Bluddflagg took out a deck of cards from a pocket in his greatcoat, throwing it at the newly set table. Klaus glanced out of the window in his room, seeing the grey waves outside. It was cloudy and rainy outside, though not entirely a storm. Rain pattered against the glass window, drops of water dripping down the glass.

Normally playing cards was strictly forbidden in Death Korp regiments, as such was a waste of time, however, the 5th Siege Regiment was a special case. This was because the regiment had the slowest casualty replenishment rate out of all of the siege regiments. Why it was like that, was classified. Due to this, campaigns were often short, usually lasting a month or two, sometimes shorter, before they were pulled out of the engagement. They were usually replaced by their neighbors and companions (and rivals), the 3rd Siege Regiment. As so, many of the regiment had learnt skills to pass time while in warp transit, or waiting for further casualty replenishment, whether waiting for the regiment to produce more soldiers, or accept gifted soldiers from other regiments.

One of the many skills Klaus had learned during these periods of stagnation was playing cards. He knew a good amount of card games, including Pokerspiel, Ausführung, and his personal favorite, Osterei. However, the card game the locals played, called 'Hearthstone' was interesting.

It did not involve bets and wagers, and also did not involve ackwards amount of heavy breathing when the stakes got high. It was rather simple really. Put cards down, attack the player, and win.

Bluddflagg was an interesting opponent. For one, he was a Xeno, so Klaus knew that he couldn't lose against Bluddflagg, just to show how inferior the ork race was compared to humanity. However, even though Bluddflagg was a filthy xeno, Klaus had to admit, he was smart. Sure, Klaus knew that Bluddflagg couldn't count any higher than five, but Bluddflagg was still smart.

"Where's Lofn?" He asked, as he started to draw cards into his hand, taking a long look at each and every single card.

"I dunno. Doin wot dose twigs do." Bluddflagg grumbled, as he sat down on the floor, his trophy rack swaying with the movement. Klaus glanced at the trophy rack, the horned skull in particular. Something was wrong with that skull. If he remembered correctly, it belonged to a demon. Varimathras, if he recalled. He always felt when around Bluddflagg, that the skull was… watching him. Like a pair of small pins digging into your back. Klaus glanced at his hand, and put down a card. He knocked on the table, his gloved knuckles rasping against the wood. Bluddflagg glanced at the card on the table and snorted, the ring in his nose moving with his breath. He grasped a card from his 'hand' (more like between his index finger and thumb) and put it down, knocking on the wood. Klaus wiped Bluddflagg's card of grease, reading it carefully.

"Can't play that trick on me twice." Klaus said aloud, as he put down another card, and gently shoved Bluddflagg's card out of the way with a finger. Bluddflagg growled, a rumble that emanated deep from his throat, as Klaus gently pushed his first card forward, before retracting it. He drew a card from the deck that was to the right of the table. He then knocked on the table.

"Ya got guts git, and I'll give ya dat. If I could have it moi way, dey wuld be all ova da place." Bluddflagg growled, as he drew a card from the deck, and put down a card. This continued for several minutes, as they continued to duel each other in a battle of wit to possibly existing wit.

"Woi do you loike dat eldar git anyways?" Bluddflagg asked suddenly, something that surprised Klaus so much that he dropped his cards, sending them sprawling all over the deck.

"WHAT?" Klaus roared, partly in anger, partly in shock. Bluddflagg snorted, as he waved his hand at the spilled cards on the table.

"Da eldar git. I fott ya humies didnt take koindly ta dem." Bluddflagg replied.

"You must be insane if you think that I bear feelings for someone like her." Klaus said, fuming.

"Yer face is ternin red." Bluddflagg pointed out. Klaus widened his eyes in surprise.

"How dare you accuse me of such a heresy!" Klaus snarled aloud, turning around to face the window, just to prove Bluddflagg how wrong he was. Klaus leaned into the window, only to gasp. His cheeks were red. And not just rosy red. Red, as in blood and gore red.

"I'm… I'm… INSULTED!" Klaus shouted, turning around on his heel. Bluddflagg's posture had not changed at all. He was slumped up against the wall, looking at his disgusting fingernails.

"Be insulted. But I fink yoo loike her. Er maybe its da uvva way 'round. Maybe ya dont notice it, but its ravva obvious." Bluddflagg grumbled, as he started to pick at a scab on his forearm, right where the line of flesh met the metal of his Power Klaw.

"To think I would have feelings for something like her is absurd, and degrading." Klaus snarled. Bluddflagg nearly chuckled, knocking on the table.

"Well I'll let ya fink wot ya want ta fink, but I fink its koinda clear." Bluddflagg grumbled. Klaus clenched his hands into fists, as he started to pick up his cards.

"How the hell can a beast like you even think of such a thing?" Klaus demanded, glancing back at the vile greenskin. Bluddflagg didn't even flinch at his insult.

"Well, fink bout it. Yoo humies don't take loikly to uvvas dat aint yer kind." He began, as he stopped picking at the scab, as now it was bleeding.

"Yoo n her been toggeva for bout a month er so. Ya haven't killed each uvva yet, and compared to da rest of da krew, yoo talk to her da most. Whenevva yoo's split up too, I always foind yoo two togevva." He finished So 'splain to me why yoo spend so much toime wiff her." Bluddflagg finally said, smiling slightly, adjusting his hat with his pinky.

"Well… I don't necessarily have a choice. I have tried again and again to get her to leave me alone… yet none of that has worked." He explained, to the best of his ability. Bluddflagg obviously, did not like it.

"Yer a damn liar. Yer probably kissin yer emperors shiny golden arse, just to make him loike yoo, cuz if ya dont, den dats 'herasee' and den yer gonna get BLAMED." Bluddflagg said, making a finger gun with his remaining hand, and started making 'Blam' and 'Pew Pew' noises. Klaus was furious.

"Listen here Bluddflagg, and listen well-"

"No. I dont fink so. Prove ta me dat ya hate her guts, and ya want dem all ova da place. Den maybe I'll listen." Bluddflagg growled, getting up, and snatched the table by the corner, and twisted it. Cards were sent spilling all over the floor, as he began to squeeze his way out, and then the table. He grabbed the door he had previously taken off, and stuck it back into the hinges. Klaus could hear Bluddflagg's heavy footsteps, and feel it too, until he was gone. Klaus sighed, glancing at the Gilded Bolter, which lied snuggled in his hammock. Now now.

"Absurd, why would he think such a thing..." Klaus mumbled, as he began to pick up the cards. What was Bluddflagg implying? That he liked Lofn? Absurd. Ridiculous. Insane. That would have been the most heretical thing he could have ever thought of. He would neve-

Klaus's mind emptied completely. The furious itch on the back of his head returned, and he dropped the cards to soothe the relentless pain that had erupted from the back of his skull. It felt like bugs were biting and gnawing his brain itself. A new thought entered his mind, as he writhed in agony. He would put Bluddflagg's theory to the test

/

Nebetaruk walked forward, and swung the warscythe. The chittering arachnid creature barely had time to register what had happened to it, before it fell apart into two equal halves. Stringy tendons snapped like twigs, as its exoskeleton released all of the green gooey insides, splattering the dark stone with its emerald green blood. As he parried another blow from the chittering monstrosities, he was once again reminded of their near fanatical zeal, as they charged him again. One was mowed down from a concentrated volley of gunfire, and it slammed into the ground, its six limbs twitching and stabbing into the air. Holding the Warscythe like a spear, he rammed it into one of the charging spider creatures. It writhed and screamed as he yanked the warscythe out, and swung it, decapitating it clean. The fractal edge of the warscythe had no trouble cutting through its exoskeleton, revealing the soft body tissue underneath. And blood. Lots of it. The body tumbled, but Nebetaruk did not notice the charging beast until it was too late. It slammed into him, its razor sharp claws swinging like fury. Multiple slashes ripped through his robes, scratching the Necrodermis underneath. Nebetaruk snatched the creature by the throat, and with one movement, he snapped its neck. The creature stopped squirming in his hand, and went completely numb, as with one flick of his wrist, he threw it aside, hearing the body tumble down the deep cliff. The last of the creatures was gunned down, a salvo of golden bullets ripping the creature into pieces. It collapsed onto the rocky ground, green blood pooling on the ground.

"Woo! Dats foive points fer me!" Mista Nailbrain hooted, as a fourth clip of ammunition fell at his feet, as he grabbed another one from his bandolier on his waist, shoving it into his gun. Something wasn't adding up. Nebetaruk had noticed that the orks had wasted quite a lot of ammunition during their journey. So he had started counting each clip that Mista Nailbrain used. So far, he had reached thirty seven. How the ork CARRIED all of that ammunition, he didn't know, but it was rather suspicious.

"I knew the Anub'ar would come for us, but I had no idea they were here already…" Kilix mumbled, shaking his spear of gore.

"Anub'ar?" Nebetaruk asked with slight curiosity, as he came to an edge of a stairwell, that continued to go down.

"The fallen brothers and sisters of our kind, resurrected into undeath, their minds enchained to the treacherous Lich King." Kilix explained diligently. Nebetaruk nodded his head mentally, as he started to climb down the staircase.

"The Hall of the Conquered Kings lies ahead." Kilix mumbled. Nebetaruk nodded, the fractal edge of the warscythe shimmering with green energy. The two orks grinned from ear to ear, preparing their shootas.

"Tell me the history of this place…" Nebetaruk asked, as he continued to walk down. The green energy that radiated off of his body acted like a lantern, illuminating the otherwise completely pitch black stairwell.

"Ahn'kahet was the deepest part of Azjol-Nerub. Not many went down here during the peak of our empire. They said they could hear voices down here… deep, and insidious. But during the War of the Spider, we had very little choice. We were forced deeper and deeper, forced to dig more and more. Until we uncovered the Faceless ones. We lost the war, due to Attrition, and nothing more."

"I see. So now you wait, for better days to come?" Nebetaruk asked, glancing back at Kilix, who silently scuttled down. He seemed well trained at being quiet,

"Essentially. We fight a hopeless war, against an enemy who cannot fear death anymore." Kilix mumbled. A echo of a screech was heard, and they stopped, waiting for several moments, before they continued to move down.

"It seems that your enemy still lives."  
"So long as the Anub'ar are bound to the Lich king, they shall never know peace. I hope that my body will never be in their clutches once again. I cannot imagine having your soul leaving the body, only to be dragged forcefully back in, bound to a masters iron will." Kilix mumbled. Nebetaruk would raise an eyebrow if he could. He knew EXACTLY how that felt.

"I can." He merely said. Finally, they reached the bottom of the staircase. Nebetaruk took one step forward, and arachnid screeches could be heard, as well as the sound of hundreds of scuttling feet. Nebetaruk took a few moments to realise that he should have taken this slow. Dozens of Anub'ar turned, hissing and screeching. Their black, obsidian claws glinted menacingly in the soft light that was produced from the many torches that hung in the hall. One figure stood out from the rest. Standing nearly twenty feet tall, a hulking monstrosity awaited them. Standing on four legs, two of its clamped together in a balled fist, a massive Anub'ar awaited them.

"So… The Black Golems awake once more?" It asked softly, its voice echoing throughout the great halls.

"It appears so. And who would you be, beast?" Nebetaruk replied, slamming his warscythe into the ground. Fissures of energy rippled throughout the ground. The beast howled, a high pitched, ear shattering screech. The orks howled, covering their ragged ears.

"I am Elder Nadox! Servant of the Lich King! And I am your doom!" Nadox roared. Dozens of crypt fiends, and undead nerubians charged, a string of arachnid screams and roars coming from their clicking mandibles.

"EAT! DAKKA!" Mista Nailbrain roared, as simultaneously, the two orks started to fire. A golden torrent of gunfire came out of their rusty steel barrels, a carpet of bullet shells forming at their feet. The first row of the creatures were cut down, and simultaneously trampled by the other row. Nebetaruk lumbered forward, sending waves of energy to his lightning field charm. It sparkled and shimmered with green lightning, as the bolts of electricity danced underneath his Necrodermis. He unbuttoned his robe, revealing his black metal chest, and just as the wave of Nerubians charged him, he activated the charm. The dozens of beady red eyes that surrounded him writhed in agony, as the lightning field cooked and sizzled the Nerubians that were in close range, while merely burning the ones who were farther away. His energy levels depleted rapidly, as the lightning that surrounded his body jumped from the sizzling corpses of the crypt fiends close by to the ones farther away. They two hollered and shouted, as their charred bodies began to hit the floor.

"ENOUGH!" Nadox roared. Nebetaruk was too late to dodge the arachnid claw that grabbed him. The lightning field shut down, running out of energy.

"Oh Shi-"

Nebetaruk was flung across the hall, slamming into a purplish wall, embroidered by gold and bronze. A visible crack ran through the stone, as Nebetaruk eased himself off. As the Nano Scarabs rushed out of the Phylactery to seek out any damage and repair it, Elder Nadox ran forward.

"I shall destroy you, Black Golem! I do not care how many times you come back!" Nadox snarled, as he rose up one of his spiked legs, and slammed it down, intending to crush Nebetaruk. He teleported out of the way, the pincer slammed down into a green mist. Nadox howled, as he tried to yank out his leg, which was now stuck in the ground. Nebetaruk swung his warscythe, and its glowing green edge swiped through the exoskeleton with ease, digging into the muscle that lay underneath. He continued to push it, as it came out through the other side. Nadox screamed, flailing wildly, as green blood splurted out of the stump of its most forward leg. Nebetaruk let his energy levels build up again, as Nadox attacked, swiping his other front leg in a sweep. Nebetaruk tried to get out of the way, but the blow severed one of his legs off clean. Dozens of Nano Scarabs clambered off of his body, scuttling around on the stone to reach his left leg, as he held onto his balance with the staff and his right leg. The Nano Scarabs let out a blip of code, as they started to drag his leg back to their master. Nebetaruk activated his Phase Shifter, as another stab came at him, one that would have cut him clean in half. Struggling to stay on his feet, he swung the Warscythe once again. It was more of a warding blow then anything, but it still cut a deep blow. Nadox screamed in pain, swinging his wounded leg wildly. A pillar of stone and gold collapsed from his tantrum, providing a rather convenient way up. The sounds of gunfire were still heard, as the orks and Kilix held of the coming swarm of Anub'ar. They were going to be overwhelmed, but not if Nebetaruk could make a diversion. He glanced at the Tesseract Labyrinth within his robes. Doing so put everyone at danger, but he realised at this point, he didnt have much choice.

"MISTA NAILBRAIN!" He roared, amplifying his voice box to the highest pitch possible. The ork glanced over at Nebetaruk.

"RUN TO THE CHAMBER! GO!" He shouted. Mista Nailbrain grabbed Spookums by the collar, and started dragging him, running as fast as possible. Kilix noticed this and followed the orks, quickly running away from the pursuing crypt fiends. Nebetaruk reached into his robe, pulling out the Tesseract Labyrinth, holding the cube in his hand.

" _Release me._ " The Nightbringer said from within. Its previous, and rather disturbing friendliness was completely gone, now its voice filled with hatred, and a thirst. A thirst for death.

" _Say it. Say the word._ " The Nightbringer mumbled. No. Commanded.

"Take Control." Nebetaruk merely said. Tendrils of grey energy swarmed all over Nebetaruk's body, as he felt unimaginable pain. He screamed, a sharp, metallic shriek, as an inky cloud took over his body, blinding him. He fell to his knees, the warscythe at his side clattering to the floor. He writhed and squirmed, as he began to morph in front of himself. A thick cloud of darkness overwhelmed him, as he was lifted off of the floor.

" _Yes…_ " The cloud of darkness started to fade away, revealing grey, chalked fingers, holding the handle of a midnight black scythe.

" _ **Yes…**_ " The cloud faded even more, revealing a black hood and robes, with grey lips forming into a curved, crooked smile, revealing bone white teeth.

" **YYYYYYYEEEEESSSSS!** " The Nightbringer roared, two beady black orbs serving as eyes. It looked upon the stunned faces of crypt fiends and undead. One in particular. Nadox.

" **I… AM… FREE!** " The Nightbringer screamed, as it swung its scythe. Nadox did not even have time to register what happened, until its body twitched. One half of its body fell to the ground, splattering green and black gore all over the temple floor. The other half fell as well, the slick green gore making its other half of the body slide into the ravine below. The Nightbringer smiled, showing its fanged, sharp teeth, as it set its gaze on the rest of the undead. It started to laugh. At first, it was one chuckle. A giggle more like. But it began to devolve into a fit, until the only audible sound was its insane laughter, as it began to slaughter each and every single creature it could find.

/

Ahzek Ahriman took several steps forward, his power armored encased feet crushing the snow and thin layer of ice underneath him. He looked up at the massive gate with interest. To each side of the large ravine like road he was in front of, were several bases. They seemed to have been previously manned by this world's denizens, but it seemed that they were now abandoned. But their was something still here that clearly showed their fate.

Carcasses, and they were everywhere. It seemed that a war or a tremendous battle had come and went, like the wind on a cool summer day. He casually walked forward, grabbing one corpse by the neck, lifting it up. Strips of flesh and cloth fell like rain as he picked up the soaked corpse, but he didn't pay too much attention to that. It appeared… human. This sparked his interest. If humans were here that were not enlightened by the foolish Imperium, and the equally flawed ruinous powers, he could manipulate them into showing him everything this world had to offer. He threw down the body, and continued to walk down the long winding road, leading to the somewhat intimidating gates. He noticed that something further down the road was appearing to be harvesting the corpses. It was a small group of men, it seemed, who were dragging corpses and putting them into piles. Ahriman chuckled lightly, his warm breath making pillars of fog in the cold air. Confident in his ability, he decided to take the first step.

"Greetings." He merely said, though the voice amplifiers in his helmet carried his voice much farther than what he intended. The figures paused, turning their heads to face him. Ahriman could see their facial features rather clearly. One of them wore a skull of an animal on his head, illuminating his red eyes, while the others seemed to be what appeared to be… skeletons and walking corpses. Ahriman smiled, swinging his arms into a placating gesture, careful not to accidentally throw his staff, something that happened a lot more then he was comfortable with.

"I see that a battle has recently taken place here. Perhaps we can enjoy some forms of conformality?" He said, giving them a smile that no one but him knew about. They were silent. The rotten and decayed figures swayed silently in the soft blizzard, the white and grey snow pelting their rotting bodies. The one who wore the bonemask was also silent, not even moving. Ahriman sighed, and decided to take several more steps forward.

The ground began to rumble around him. Ahriman glanced back at the one with the bonemask. A bony hand shot up from behind, a small and unethical moan being let out. Ahriman turned around, to see the corpse he had so casually tossed aside start to rise. Its eyes were alight with unholy power, and it turned its rotting neck toward Ahriman and moaned, slowly stumbling forward. Ahriman could not move, completely fascinated of what he was saying. He did not even move, as the corpse lightly pounced at him, gnawing away at one of his ceramite covered fingers. The corpse's teeth shattered and chipped, bits of bone falling to the ground, as the corpse continued to try and eat his finger. Small amounts of drool dribbled down its chin as well. Ahriman casually lifted the corpse by the neck, seizing it by the throat. It let out a small, pathetic mewl, as it clawed futilely at his arm. Ahriman then snapped its neck. The body stopped moving, but the head continued to make noises, though it was more soft now.

"Fascinating…" Ahriman mumbled to himself, as he then ripped the corpses head off with pathetic ease. The body fell to the ground, dark oily blood pooling out of its neck. Ahriman glanced at the head, which now had stopped making noises. He then threw it away, turning on his heel. More of the corpses came towards him. He laughed.

"This is what you send at me? Lumbering corpses and chittering skeletons?" He asked softly, as he began to read dark incantations. A blue blob of warp energy formed in his hand, and he set it loose. One of his most favorite spells, in his own opinion. One word (or two, depending on who you asked.) Doombolt.

Tendrils of warp energy leaped out of his open palm, zig zagging in the air, making it pop and crackle with its unnatural touch. They slammed into the small group of approaching corpses, and ripped them utterly to shreds. One bolt got lucky, and made a corpse explode so violently, one of its rotting intestines smacked straight into Ahriman's chestplate. He winced in pain, feeling the scar of the consecrated bolt shell dig slightly deeper into his flesh, only pushed back the constant wards and spells he had constantly prepared and made. He casually walked forward again, shooting a bolt of warp energy at the wide eyed man, making him implode. It was rather satisfying to see the man being quite literally ripped inside out, leaving a pile of steaming guts.

"WHO IS THE RULER OF THIS PLACE!" Ahriman demanded, as he continued to walk forward, until he was practically at the footsteps of the gate itself. Suddenly, it began to open. Slowly at first, the metal and ice bars began to slowly descend from their locked state, digging into the ground itself. Ahriman remained unimpressed. However, when several figures came out, walking through the snow, he raised an eyebrow. The two on the side were two hulking beasts, nearly ten feet tall. They seemed to be caracasses and bodies sewn together, and they were holding massive cleavers and knives, along with random pieces of armor that jutted out at random. However, the one in the middle was what really caught his attention. Dressed in silverish grey armor, along with a fluttering dark blue cloak behind it, it was truly an imposing figure. Ahriman glanced at the sword in the figures hand. It was most likely daemonic in nature, noticing the runes that possibly kept the daemon within. Its spiked and curved helmet peered straight at him, two small blue tendrils of energy gently floating into the air.

" **Who are you, sorcerer?** " The figure asked. It wasn't a threat at all. It was more of a question, if anything.

"I am Ahzek Ahriman, of the Thousand Sons. And who are you, I may inquire?" Ahriman asked, slamming his staff into the ground, making the ice around it crack.

" **I am the Lich King. Ruler of Northrend, and the Scourge.** " The Lich King replied. Ahriman smiled. Finally, someone with authority.

"Perhaps we could settle for something to drink. Tea, perhaps?" Ahriman asked calmly. He would prefer not to fight. Why fight, when so much knowledge was still his to find?

" **We shall have no tea, puppet.** " The Lich King growled, taking a couple steps forward. They matched each other in height, as they stared each other down.

"So we fight then?" Ahriman said, frowning slightly.

" **I know of your nature, Ahriman. You serve the Raven God. I will not allow your corruption to spread.** " The Lich King growled. Ahriman sighed, as at the same time, they swung their weapons, and they collided, making such an impact that they were both flung meters away. Ahriman tumbled down the stairs, smashing his horned helmet into a dead body. He rose up, moving the horns out of the way.

"Pity. We could have accomplished so much." Ahriman mumbled, as they prepared themselves for the duel to come.

Cliff Hangers, am I right?


	51. Chapter 51: Ahn'kahet (Part Two)

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So, here is the second part of Ahn'kahet

Hope you enjoy...

"So we fight then?" Ahzek Ahriman said, frowning slightly.

"I know of your nature, Ahriman. You serve the Raven God. I will not allow your corruption to spread." The Lich King growled. Ahriman sighed, as at the same time, they swung their weapons, and they collided, making such an impact that they were both flung meters away. Ahriman tumbled down the stairs, smashing his horned helmet into a dead body. He rose up, moving the horns out of the way.

"Pity. We could have accomplished so much." Ahriman mumbled, as they rushed at each other once again. Close combat was never Ahriman's true speciality, but he had a trick up his sleeve. Sorcery. Ahriman channeled warp energy into his palm, and let out a purple and blue beam of pure warp energy through. It incinerated one of the hulking behemoths in an instant, but the Lich King rolled out of the way of the beam of energy. The Lich King then pointed his sword at Ahriman. A torrent of snow and ice slashed towards him. Ahriman opened his eyes in surprise, and teleported out of the way, leaving a trail of red fire behind him.

"So you are a psyker too?" Ahriman asked rhetorically, as he swung The Black Staff in a decapitating motion. The Lich King parried this blow, going for a low sweep of the daemonic weapon. Ahriman jumped out of the way, and then their weapons collided. They pushed against each other with all of their might, each trying to push the other back.

"I am my own being. You will not control me, and you shall fall, like all others!" The Lich King growled, frost coming out from the thin slit in the horned like helm.

"Well then, prepare to be disappointed." Ahriman growled. They pushed each other back, as Ahriman shot a fireball out of his palm. The ball of warpfire collided with the Lich King, pushing him back. Red flame hungrily licked at his cloak and armor, but it didn't seem to do much. The Lich King then swiped his hand in a sweeping motion. Chunks of ice jettisoned out of the ground, scoring a blow on Ahriman's chestpiece, as for the most part, he had moved out of the way. The ceramite screeched, as a large gash in the gold and blue metal had appeared. Ahriman growled, as they continued to trade blows. A stab here, a slash there, and every now and then, simply a good butt in the head. They were evenly matched, as they continued to slowly, yet surely, wear each other down. However, The Lich King made a quick strike on the back of Ahriman's exposed leg, as he had moved out of the way to dodge a fake attack. The leg servos whined and cracked, as the icy blade dug deep within the power armor. He could sense the servos had failed for now. He was temporarily immobilized knee down in one of his legs. The Lich King brought his sword up, ready to sever Ahriman's head off, leaving himself open. Ahriman grinned, as with a couple incantations and words, A thick cloud of chains and barbed wire overtook the Lich King. He snarled in anger, thrashing against the web of wires that had trapped him. For now.

Ahriman would not let this chance to slip from his grasps, so with a channeled strike, he attacked the foe's mind. It was a hard fought mental battle, as the Lich King desperately tried to push Ahriman out of his own mind. However, Ahriman was the far superior psyker. The Lich King stumbled back, the web of chains and wire disappearing into thin air, while he roared in pain, trying to get his senses together. One of the hulking brutes that had stood idle all this time roared, a thick amount of spit and vomit coming from its decrepit lips, as it lumbered forward, and swung its cleaver. Ahriman had to stop the mental assault on The Lich King in order to get out of the way of the cleaver. It slammed into the rock and ice and it howled, as it yanked it out in a couple of pulls. It was at this point that Ahriman realised it was becoming increasingly difficult to use his spells. Like his mastery over the warp began to fade.

"Vile beast!" Ahriman hissed, as he grabbed his staff like a spear, and channeled a destructive beam of energy. It coronated at the tips of the horns on his staff, trophies from the defeated daemon prince Vaddh'akar the Annihilator.

"ME SQUISH YOU DEAD!" The beast roared, as it lumbered forward, letting out a foul battlecry, randomly swinging its appendages in all directions but front.

"I'm afraid that's not how it works." Ahriman mumbled, as the staff shot out a brilliant spear of jade green and deep purple warp energy. The beast howled, and looked down, noticing that it no longer had half of its body, before it slammed into the ground, making a groaning noise. Ahriman stabbed with his staff, the horns being embedded in the beast's brain. He twisted it for good effort, and with that, the beast was dead. He yanked the staff out of the creature's skull, glancing up. The Lich King stood ten feet away, huffing violently.

"This world will be mine. Not yours." The Lich King hissed, as he stepped forward, and pointed his sword at Ahriman. A screaming green skull, ensheathed in yellow and orange fire leaped out of the weapon. It howled silently, as it smashed into Ahriman, knocking him clear off of his feet. He tumbled down the stairs, and with one final smash, he felt the servos in his left leg being put back into position.

"You think I care about ownership, wretch?" Ahriman said, chuckling lightly, as he rolled out of the way, as The Lich King smashed his sword down into the ice, getting nearly half a foot of the blade stuck in the ice. He yanked it out, but was not fast enough to dodge Ahriman's next attack.

"I care of one thing, and one thing alone. Power!" Ahriman snarled, as with all of the mental energy he had left, he snatched The Lich King from the ground with a tendril of warp energy, and flung him away from the gates. The Lich King smashed into the ground, tumbling in the snow, sliding right up to the slowly freezing body of the King's disgusting bodyguards.

"I care of knowledge!" He shouted, as he released a volley of Doombolts from his open palm. The Lich King rolled out of the way, the Doombolts boiling and searing the ground underneath.

"I am to be a GOD. You are NOTHING, compared to me!" Ahriman snarled.

"You are a power hungry slave, nothing more." The Lich King growled. They stood apart from each other, the Lich King's cape and Ahriman's robes fluttering in the wind. The snow was gentle and calm, while the wind blowed softly into Ahriman's audio receptors. It was a scene that should normally be taken in. However, this was not that time.

"You cannot win my friend." Ahriman said, throwing a bolt of energy at The Lich King. It struck him, and he was pushed backwards, though still standing. He returned with a gust of icy and cold wind that froze one of Ahriman's arms. Growling, he smashed it on his leg, breaking the ice. It shattered into hundreds of pieces, scattering all over his ceramite boots.

"I can try." The Lich King replied, as he ran forward, holding his sword in a two handed grasp. Ahriman chuckled, as he merely glanced at The Lich King, said a couple of incomprehensible words, and snapped his fingers. Pink fire and flame engulfed The Lich King, and he roared in anger and pain, swatting at the psychic fire that lingered on his breastplate and legs. But it was too late.

Ahriman then reached into his foe's mind and took control, pooling every reservoir of energy he had available to dominate him. Though he fought valiantly, Ahriman had no distractions this time. Slowly yet surely, The Lich King's mental defences were breached. Each quadrant of his mind became isolated, and was quickly invaded. He laughed softly, as finally, The Lich King stopped moving, standing as still as a statue.

"Kneel." He ordered. The Lich King slowly got down onto the ground, and kneeled before Ahriman.

"See? Was that hard?" He asked, smiling cruelly, as he turned to the gates, snorting.

"Open the gates." He commanded. The Lich King obeyed, and as the massive gate began to open, Ahriman greedily looked over what information he had, and smiled. Godhood was closer then he realized.

/

Spookums set the charges, running the wires along his fingers as he prepared the batch to detonate.

"This is not a good idea." Kilix grumbled, watching intently. Spookums snorted, as he patted the explosive with care, and set it against the collapsed rock wall. During their escape, the tunnel had been sealed, and now they had to get through it in order to get the tin boy.

"Dis is a small charge. Shuldnt do dat much damage." Spookums said. Mista Nailbrain jumped in excitement, yipping happily.

"Ha ha ha! Luv me sum good 'splosions!" He said, as his face was contorting into a feral grin.

"Dat we do Mista Nailbrains, dat we do." Spookums grumbled, as he quickly did some readjustments with the position of the bomb.

"Ya know wot dis place needs Spookums?" Mista Nailbrains asked, with a dumb grin on his face, his hand reaching into his sack. Spookums smiled slightly, deciding to play along with the joke.

"I dunno Mista Nailbrain. Wot does dis place need?" Spookums asked, as he finished readjusting the wires.

"Moar Moines!" Mista Nailbrain said happily, as he threw a handful of explosive mines at the rock wall. Spookums sighed, as he took a dozen steps back. He stretched his goggles over his eyes, the dark tinted glass protecting his red eyes.

"Step back ya grots, n cover yer eyes, cuz dis is gunna itch." Spookums grumbled, as he pressed the detonator. The large explosion that followed knocked Mista Nailbrain off of his feet, while it pushed Spookums and Kilix back slightly. Spookums wiped his face of dust, and shook his tunics free of pebbles, as the dust began to settle. The rock wall had been utterly obliterated.

"Hm. Dats gud. Mista Nailbrain, gimme a loight. Spida, might wanna look away." Spookums suggested, as Mista Nailbrain grinned, pulling out his plasma torch. An impossibly blue light filled the room, and Spookums would have been blinded if it wasn't for his goggles. Spookums walked down the tunnel for several minutes, until finally, they had found a single black, metal finger.

"Mista Nailbrain, frow me a mine." Spookums demanded. Mista Nailbrain seemed hesitant.

"Yoo sure dats a gud idea?" He asked. Spookums snorted, walking up to the ork, and snatching a stack of mines from his grasp.

"Course it is. Da metal boyz can make themselves again from a puddle of goo. Seen it before." Spookums replied, as he casually threw the mines around the metal finger.

"Detanata." He barked. Mista Nailbrain threw the detonator, to which he expertly caught. Twirling it around and between his fingers, he grinned slightly, as with one final flip, it lodged itself firmly in his hand, a large red button with a small black skull, which was grinning at him. He pressed the button. Another explosion went off, uncovering the Necrons body, which had been ripped into two pieces.

"Oi. Mista Nailbrain, here, grab his legs. I dont fink dey have dangly bits, so ya shuld be gud. I got da chest." He ordered. Mista Nailbrain sighed, as he began yanking at the metal legs, to no avail. Spookums had less trouble, but even then, the Necron was still pretty heavy. He dropped the torso onto the ground, as he grabbed the ruined waist, and started to pull it towards the chest piece.

"Mista Nailbrain, gimme sum sparky stuff." He ordered, snapping his fingers. Mista Nailbrain sighed, as he kneeled down, pulling out his battery pack, a large wooden contraption with several jumpa cables. He clamped the cables all around the Necrons body, and flipped the switch. Electricity coursed through the wires, which was then absorbed by the Necron's body.

"Doo you fink its werkin?" Mista Nailbrain asked cautiously, giving the Necron a nudge with his boot.

"Hm. Maybe he needs a bit more… ZAP, if ya know wot I mean." He said, chuckling, before he wiped the grin off of his face, as he stood up.

"Roight, to da max levul of powa!" Spookums proclaimed. Mista Nailbrain gasped.  
"But dats gonna put da powa levul ova noine!" He said, startled. Spookums laughed.

"DEN WERE GUNNA MAKE IT ILLEVUN! PULL DA LEEVA!" He shouted. Mista Nailbrain obliged, as he pulled the switch all the way to the max amount. Now the electricity was visible, small blue sparks and arks that danced and traced all along the Necrons body. The body began to shudder, a green glow emanating from the center of its chest. The legs were pulled back to the waist, where they had begun to seal shut.

"YES! ITS ALOIVE!" Spookums shouted, cackling.

"Well technically dose Metal Boyz aint aloive, Spookums, because de-"

The Necrons hand shot up, snatching Mista Nailbrain by the throat. He gasped, struggling to breath, as the Necron slowly rose up, strangling Mista Nailbrain with one hand. Spookums snarled, as he pulled out his Speshul Shoota, and shot a whole clip of ammo into the back of the Necron. It growled, a mechanical hiss emanating from its body, as it threw Mista Nailbrain to the ground.

"Oh zog." Spookums mumbled, throwing down his speshul shoota. The Necron stopped, and stretched its back.

"Never do that again." The Necron commanded. Spookums sighed in relief. Good, he wasn't going to be brutally eviscerated.

"Da part where I wuz shootin you er da part we pumped ya with sparky stuff?" He asked, still keeping his hands near his kustom shoota.

"Both." The Necron replied, glancing back at the pile of rocks. He walked over, grabbing his large warscythe and robes, which had been dislodged away from his body.

"Kilix. Which way to the tomb?" The Necron asked. The spider man, who from this point, had silently been observing the scene in front of him clicked his mandibles.

"The tombs are this way. However, we must be cautious. The Twilight Hammer must know we are coming by now." Kilix merely said. Spookums shrugged.

"Yeah. Sounds bout roight." He grunted, as he began to walk down the tunnel. Made sense after all.

"Spookums." The Necron grumbled. He raised an eyebrow, turning around. The Necron threw the speshul shoota. He caught it, looking it over. The paint got chipped a tad bit. He grinned slightly, loading in several shells into the gun, before he cocked it.

"Dis is gunna be fun." He mumbled to himself, as he catched up to the rest of the group.

/

Bluddflagg took a sip of alcohol from his barrel, guzzling down the frothy liquid, before he put it down. He belched, a monstrous roar being let out from his lips. He chuckled lightly, as he continued to pick at the scab on his chest. It seemed to have gotten worse, a large, black wound that daily weeped translucent liquid and green pus.

"Hm. Gotta stop pickin dat." he grumbled to himself, restraining his finger, as a gout of green liquid splurted out of the wound, splashing onto the wooden floor.

"Still picking at long forgotten wounds, I see?" a voice said. A somewhat familiar voice. Bluddflagg growled, his fingers itching to his kustom shoota, which was in its holster.

"Didn't I tell ya to zog off already?" Bluddflagg snarled.

"Perhaps you did, but such threats are meaningless against me." The voice merely said. They were silent for a few moments, before the voice said something else, this time with a small bit of humor in its voice.

"I see now you are sober enough to talk, Bluddflagg?" Bluddflagg narrowed his eye.

"I neva told yoo me name." He growled.

"No. You did not, but it was rather easy to find out. You're mind is like an open book, a masterpiece to be precise. Easy to read, Impossible to understand." The voice replied. Bluddflagg rubbed his face with the powa klaw, careful not to gouge his other eye out.

"Errgh… enuff of da fancee words already, and get to da point." He snarled.

"I promised you a gift, Bluddflagg. A small, tiny gift, but one that can show you what we are trully capable of. It is now time." The voice said. But Bluddflagg didnt want to get this out of hand.

"Who da zog is 'we'?" He snarled.

"You shall find out, in time. In time, you will understand. In time, everyone will understand. You are a promising subject, Bluddflagg. Different from any other orc I have ever seen. Stronger, Faster… Better…"

"Enuff of da arse kissin, were's me loot?" He demanded. The voice chuckled lightly, a raspy and windy sound, before it replied with a voice so full of malice that he shivered.

"Insults will get you nowhere, Bluddflagg. Perhaps I should teach you a… LESSON…" The voice growled.

"Da zog dose dat mea-"

A searing pain erupted from Bluddflaggs skull. He roared in pain, smashing his head against the wooden bulkhead, making a small crack appear on the wood. He thrashed around in the cargo hold, snarling and roaring in pain. It had felt like his entire head had erupted in an invisible flame, as he clawed and scratched at his face with his paws, causing deep red scratches to run down his face, and for blood to be dripping down his jawline and onto his coat. And just like that, it was over. He huffed silently, catching his breath, until he realised something. His mouth opened up in shock, as he saw what was on the floor. It was his eyepatch. He waved his hand infront of the right side of his face. He could see it.

"Wheres a bluddy mirra?" He growled, looking around. He sifted through boxes of food and other materials, until finally, he grabbed a large mirror, roughly the size of his chest. He gasped in shock, dropping it. It cracked, and pieces of it had fallen out of the frame, but one thing was certainly, and abundantly clear. Where his eyepatch used to be, was now a small, green flame. Taking the shape of an orb, the small green flame had enveloped his eye socket, slightly reaching up. But that wasn't the thing. He could see. He could finally see, as if he had two eyes.

"Do you enjoy your gift?" The voice asked, seeming like an insult, but also a legitimate question. Bluddflagg rose up, the mirror in his hand. The green flame moved with his head, as he moved it from side to side.

"Da zog did ya doo to me eye?" He demanded, glancing around.

"Simple. I have given you the ability to see with both eyes. Perhaps, you can use your new found depth perception, and see how gracious you should be?" The voice said sarcastically.

"Bein smart ARE YA? ILL KICK YER ARSE!" Bluddflagg roared, whipping around, the orange-gold powerfield on his klaw primed, crackling with deadly excitement. The voice nearly laughed.

"Try as you may, you cannot get rid of me. However, your attitude is certainly not appreciated. Perhaps I shall have to do something to make you learn proper manners." The voice growled. Bluddflagg sighed, huffing silently. He heard footsteps behind him.

"Twig." He merely mumbled, turning around slightly. Lofn gasped, staring at the green flame that was now Bluddflagg's right eye.

"What happened?" She asked, though it sounded more like a demand. He chuckled, glancing back at the mirror, that was still in his hand.

"Ta be honest, I don't know either." He grumbled, before he threw the mirror down to the ground and stomped on it. He missed.

/

Spookums looked at the enemy patrol, and grinned. This was the perfect time to show the rest of the group, truly how cunning he was. He turned to face the rest of them, which were hiding behind a collapsed pillar.

"Roight, lissen. Da key ta bein sneaky is ta make sure dat yer neva seen. In a sitchoashun like dis, weze gotta be real sneaky, and hoide when dere lookin, n stab em when dere not. So, I'ze gonna go head, and klear da patrol. Den, when dalandneardasea is klear, yoo move up. We keep doin dis till we get to da tin kan cupboard" He whispered, looking for their approval, before he grinned.

"Undastand?" he demanded, and they nodded. He grinned, as he reached into his backpack, pulling out his favorite sneaking item. He set it up, carefully unfolding it, as to not make any creases or rips in it. It was worn out after all.

"What. Is. That." The Necron grumbled in utter disbelief and disappointment. Spookums took personal offence to this, as he kneeled down, putting the box over himself.

"Dis is da ultimate shneaky tool. I kall it… da snekk box!" He whispered, grinning, as he began to move away, crawling on all of his fours. A small slit had been cut out in front of the box, in order to grant him vision. So long as he did not move while in their sight, he was completely, and totally… infiltrated. He peeked through the slit in the box, looking over the patrol in front of him. There were four of them. Two pasty gits, one ork, and one humie. They were dressed in purple or black clothing, each holding a variety of weapons. Staffs, swords, axes, sickles, oh my. They currently had their backs turned to him. He grinned. They were really playing into his advantage now. He crawled forward, the box shuffling around him as he moved. One of them turned, and he stopped moving. The pasty git looked around, its red eyes scanning the near pitch black room, before it mumbled to itself, turning away. Spookums shuffled forward a bit more, until he was a couple of feet away. He reached into his sack, pulling out a stun bomb. The stun bomb was his own design, modeled similarly to the photon grenades by the bloo gits, or as he called them, 'Discobombs'. He pulled the pin, and lifted the box slightly, and kicked the grenade out.

"Dere gunna luv dat surprise." He whispered, cackling, as he closed his eyes. The stunbomb exploded, making a sharp whining noise. He heard four cries and multiple pairs of feet stumble back. Pulling out his Assasshuns knoife, he threw the box off of himself, as he stabbed one of the cultists in the throat. The oversized blade fit through the entire neck and more, cutting down into the collarbone and into the jawbone as well. He yanked it out, as he clobbered another blinded cultist with it, breaking its spine. Snatching the last two cultists by the neck, he dropped his knife, raising them up into the air.

"Gotta keep yer eyes peeled!" He said, tauntingly, as he snapped their necks simultaneously. Their bodies went limp like a sack of stikkbombs, and he threw them to the ground. He casually rolled their bodies down into the caverns below. He then waved the rest of the group up, as he picked up the box, and crept forward.

"Which way spider git?" He asked, glancing back at Kilix. He pointed to the left.

"Left. Gotcha." He mumbled, as he put the box back on, and crawled forward. Their was another patrol, though this one made him pause. There were two cultists, and one… well, he didn't really know how to explain it. It looked like a being made of purely flame and fire, with two shiny golden bracelets on its wrists. Nick that, he thought to himself, as he stopped moving.

"I sense a disturbance." The fire thing said, looking around. Spookums cursed silently. If the rock thing knew where he was, he was toast. Heh. Toast. Get it? Because it was a fire thing? Toast? Right? Ok… Spookums decided to try something.

"No you don't…" He whispered, cupping his hands around the mouth, in order to perhaps persuade the rock thing that truly, there was no disturbance. The fire elemental glanced at the box, before looking away.

"I no longer sense a disturbance." It merely said, as the patrol disappeared from sight. Spookums waited for ten seconds sharp, before he crawled forward. He kept crawling, every now and then sticking an arm underneath the box to wave the group onwards. They continued to hide behind different pieces of ruins and odd structures, as they continued to head closer and closer to the desecrated altar. The amount of patrols began to lessen too, but they became harder to bypass. And more aware. Spookums was almost uncovered too, after one of them stubbed their toe on the snekk box, but was too stupid to realise it. Spookums needed REAL enemies to sneak past, because these Twilight Hammer twats were too easy. Finally, they had entered the altar itself. It was somewhat far away, with dozens of cultists on their knees, praying to a strange statue. Spookums grabbed a ring of stikkbombs, his finger playing with the pins, as he waddled forward. One of them was floating too, being held up by a large purple orb of energy.

"Zoggin weirdos…" he grumbled, as he continued to waddle forward. He knew that the rest of the group were by the doors, hiding behind the pillars. Glancing back, he sighed, as he slowly climbed up the stairs. The dark chanting seemed to get louder and louder, and the room started to vibrate. Pulling the pins off of the stikkbombs, he chucked them into the crowd. The look of surprise and horror on their faces right before the grenades exploded brought a salty tear to his eye, and he wiped it, as the cultists were ripped utterly to shreds. A thick red pool of blood, ichor, and pale limbs and flesh had covered the purple and gold floor and walls.

"Gotta ask Mista Nailbrain to make me sum more…" He mumbled, as he took the box off, folding it back into its spacious form, and shoving it in his sack, as the rest of the group came in.

"They know we are here, and will come for us." Kilix growled, giving Spookums a particularly poisonous glance.

"Spookums, Mista Nailbrain, I expect you to hold the line." The Necron grumbled. Spookums shrugged, as he took out the kustom shoota, shoving in a clip of ammunition.

"And wot about yoo?" Spookums demanded, as Mista Nailbrain began to throw handfuls of proximity mines, giggling and chuckling with glee.

"I must awaken my people." The Necron merely said, as Kilix turned a handle that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. One of the walls began to open, revealing a large, pitch black gate. Kilix and the Necron disappeared through the gap.

"Ya know wot dis place needs Mista Nailbrains?" Spookums asked, grinning slightly, as he started pulling out stikkbomb after stikkbomb. Mista Nailbrains chuckled with excitement.

"Wots dat Spookums?" He asked, as they could both hear dozens of pairs of feet through the tunnel.

"More… DAKKA!" He shouted, as they started to fire.

/

Nebetaruk could hear the orks firing their weapons, a cacophony of explosions and recoil and screaming coming through the hole in the wall.

"We must hurry. The orks can only hold out for so long." He grumbled.

"Of course." Kilix said, as they began to run as fast as they could through the winding tunnel.

"The Black Golems sleep in the tomb of silence. During the Silver Wars, we pushed them back into the Old Kingdom, which was not nearly as expansive as it is now. We lost so many to them. Their claws ripped through flesh and metal with pathetic ease, their claws slicing and twisting off skin with no resistance. But one day, they just… stopped." Kilix said, as he began to explain something to Nebetaruk.

"Their bodies fell to the ground, their green glow gone. We dragged their bodies into the tomb, and locked it up. The most powerful Nerubian warriors, sorcerers, and more, were assigned to guard the tomb until they died…" Kilix said, passing the ancient skeletons of Nerubians, which had cobwebs and families of rats and bats living inside their hollow shells.

"After The War of The Spider, we never knew what happened to the black golems. Whether they had awakened or not, or the Faceless ones or the Undead had gotten to them first. But now, we will know…" Kilix mumbled, as they came across a vast, metal door.

"The tomb door closed itself after a while, and no one knows how to open it…" Kilix explained. Nebetaruk stepped forward, putting his hand in the middle of the door. Metal tendrils poked through the door, enveloping his hand. Several seconds later they retracted back into the door, and it began to silently open. A thick gas escaped the room, causing Kilix to cough, as Nebetaruk took several steps forward. It was pitch black, the only thing that gave light was himself. He amplified his eye's brightness, turning them into impromptu spotlights, as he looked around. A pile of Necron bodies was in the center of the tomb, but they were inactive. He walked past them, turning to the left, as he entered another section of the tomb. The artifact vault. He opened another door, and stepped in. Small pockets of green energy illuminated the room softly, as he walked into the room. Similar to the tomb he had awaken in, their was a ring of pedestals, though most of them were empty. Only two were occupied. One was a Phase Shifter, which he already had, so he didn't bother taking it. But the other, was a Resurrection Orb. The viridian orb glowed softly, emitting a glassy sheen in the light. He grabbed it with one hand, fondling it with his black fingers.

"This… this should work." He mumbled, as he left the artifact vault, closing it behind him. He came back to the pile of bodies, to which Kilix cautiously stood.

"Stand back." He commanded, to which Kilix obeyed. Using the orb, a plethora of green energy waves shot out, wrapping around the bodies of the inactive Necrons. They wrapped around their bodies, verdant green energy coursing through their black bodies. For awhile, nothing moved, as the orb returned to its peaceful state. Then, something in the pile moved. Excitement grew in Nebetaruk like a tumor, as one of the Necrons rose. It was somewhat short for a Necron, nearly standing five and half feet tall. Sharp, jet black talons had grown into its fingers, when suddenly, Nebetaruk realised that he had made a grievous mistake. They were-

Kilix let out a scream. Nebetaruk turned around. Kilix was twitching, as one of the Necrons had snuck up behind him. Kilix twitched and convulsed, as the Necron began to flay the Nerubian of his skin with surgical precision.

"Flayed ones…" Nebetaruk mumbled in terror, as he started to take steps back. The Flayed ones continued to climb out of the pile, as they leaped on top of Kilix's body, feasting on his blood and entrails. His dark blood seeped through their ribcages, and Nebetaruk watched as one of them shoved a bunch of intestines into its metal mouth, only for it to fall down its body and out through its body.

"What… What Have I done…" He whispered, as the Flayed Ones slowly turned their eyes back to Nebetaruk. They let out a scream, a harsh, metallic, screech, as they began to shuffle towards him. One thought went through his mind. Run.

He activated his teleporter charm and teleported as far as he could, ending up far back in the tunnel. He could hear their screams, and the shuffling and running of their feet. He ran (or walked really) as fast as he could to the entrance, where Mista Nailbrain and Spookums were still warding off the cultists. Nearly thirty bodies had piled up in front of the gate. He growled in anger, walking up the orks.

"We must leave. Now." He ordered. Mista Nailbrain scratched his head.

"Weren't ya lookin for more tin boyz?" He asked. To this, they all heard the metallic screech. One of the Flayed Ones was coming through the tunnel, dragging along a bloody Nerubian leg. Blood dripped through its ribcage and abdomen, as it's now bloody tipped claws clattered together in enthusiasm.

"ZOG!" Spookums shouted, as the orks realized just how much trouble they were now in.

"ROIGHT, WE GOTTA RUN!" Mista Nailbrain shouted, as they ran to the door. But only then, did things go from bad to worse. As they ran through the gates, something exploded, sending shrapnel flying everywhere. One of the pieces lodged itself within his chest, but Nebetaruk didn't care that much.

Spookums, on the other hand, was a different story. He screamed in pain, falling down, holding the stumps that were now his legs. Mista Nailbrain gasped in horror.

"BY GORK, SPOOKUMS!" He shouted in shock, as he grasped the ork by the chest. He growled in pain, looking at the large pool of blood that had now formed underneath him, staining his pants.

"Zog dat hurts…" He growled through clenched teeth. They looked up, as more Flayed Ones exited the tunnel opening, shuffling forward, their razor sharp talons clattering together in excitement.

"Drag his body. We have to leave." Nebetaruk ordered, as he grabbed one of the corpses of the cultists, and chucked it as far as he could. It slammed into one of the pillars, right into the waiting claws of the Flayed Ones, who quickly ripped it to pieces.

"He's heavy!" Mista Nailbrain shouted in anger, as he yanked Spookums as hard as he could, but failed to move him by much. Nebetaruk sighed, as he snatched Spookums by the collar of his tunic, and began to drag him away. He was right. Spookums was heavy indeed.

"Cron! Gimme mai shoota! I wanna pump em with dakka!" He shouted in anger and pain. Nebetaruk couldnt see too much of a point to it, but he reached into Spookums sack, retrieving the rifle. He put it in Spookums waiting arms.

"Aim well. Make every shot count, because it may be your last." He growled. Spookums nodded, cackling, as he began to unload into the mob of Flayed Ones. The bullets peppered their Necrodermis shells, not doing much, though one shot did get lucky and hit a Flayed One right in the knee joint, making the leg snap and bend.

"YA! EAT DAT! DAKKA DAKKA DAKKA DAKKA!" Spookums shouted, as he continued to hold down the trigger. AS Nebetaruk dragged Spookums body as fast as he could, the two orks kept firing into the black and red mob, hooting and hollering as loud as they could, their weapons spewing out cordite and clouds of black smoke. A large red trail followed Spookums as they went, and to his disgust, he could see some of the Flayed Ones kneel to the ground, and lap it up like animals. This was his fault. All his fault, and now he could see it. Nearly half an hour later, they were near the entrance to the old kingdom, where the corpses of the anub'ar still stood. Mista Nailbrain glanced at the gate, and snarled.

"We kant let dese gits get outta here! We gotta seal dis place shut!" Mista Nailbrain shouted.

"It's impossible. We don't have nearly enough explosives to seal the whole kingdom." Nebetaruk countered. But to this, Spookums wheezed, coughing out a thick wad of bloody mucus.

"Yeah we do... Mista Nailbrain, how many... rokkits... yoo got?" He demanded, coughing between nearly each word he said.

"I got ten Spookums. Ten rokkits." He replied softly, in such a voice that surprised Nebetaruk.

"I'm gunna need tape... Alot of it. I got me a…. speshul bomb, dat I've been... savin fer a while. But its gunna... need sumun to stay... behoind." Spookums mumbled. Nebetaruk would have widened his eyes if he could.

"You… you dont mean…"

"SPOOKUMS, I AINT LETTIN YA DO IT! YER DA KAPTINS CABIN BOY!" Mista Nailbrian shrieked.

"AND YER DA FIRST MATE! Da Kapn… he needs yoo. DA KREW, needs yoo. I'm just a backstabba, but yoo? Yer da brain." Spookums countered, before he glanced at Nebetaruk.

"Take Mista Nailbrain, and foind da Kapn. Tell him... wot happened to me. Tell him, if he wants to know... where ize is, den you… you betta bluddy keep yer mouth shut. Kaphice?" He growled. Nebetaruk nodded his head.

"Your sacrifice won't be forgotten." Nebetaruk mumbled. Spookums laughed, before he coughed once again, the orks forest green skin now going pale.

"Damn... straight. Now, get da hell outta here…. Oh, Mista Nailbrain?" He grumbled, as the Flayed Ones were closing in, nearly twenty feet away.

"Wot Spookums? Wot… wot is it?" He asked softly, kneeling down to the bleeding Kommando. He took off the strange horn off of his belt, and put it in his hands. He also took the goggles off of his head, and put it on his head, strapping it to the metal section of his skull.

"Keep dat. Looks… gud." He said, smiling, before they did something Nebetaruk never thought he would see them do. They hugged.

It wasn't a hug really, but the action was damn close enough.

"Now go. And RUN!" Spookums shouted, as he waved them away. Nebetaruk left the ork, while Mista Nailbrain spared his friend one last glance before he ran too.

/

Spookums watched the Necron and Mista Nailbrain leave, disappearing from view. With the tape that Mista Nailbrain left, he began to strap all of the rokkits he had together. Taping each hap hazard missile with excellent precision, he took out every explosive he had. Booby traps, Stikkbombs, Grenades, and finally… his Kaboom.

The Kaboom was roughly twenty pounds in weight, with an estimated blast radius of nearly a city square. Truly, the definition of boom. He opened up the Kaboom, revealing a small red button within the pounds of explosive charges. He leaned back on one of the pillars, sighing. Blood pooled around his ruined legs, and he found that it was a surprise he hadnt bled out yet. The Flesh covered Necrons were closing in. Ten feet. Spookums started to sing a small little tune that he had heard when he was young.

"One littul squig goes hoppin... down the road, eats da grots and da toads…"

Nine Feet.

"Den da littul squig has... a fall, and begins ta bawl…"

Seven Feet.

"Da Runtherd… comes round and... says "Wots da Matta Mista Squig? Why are you so bloated, why do ya look loike a pig?"

Five Feet.

"Da squig dun talk, cuz hes a squig, so he bites da Runtherds hand off, and makes a break, but den falls into da creek."

Three feet.

"Wot a wonderful tale… but what happens next? No one knows, because… sheck."

One feet.

Spookums smiled, looking at the many black and green faces that howled silently, reaching out to him with their razor sharp claws.

"Eat shite." He mumbled.

He pressed the button.


	52. Chapter 52: Complications

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So as you know, it is December.

Which means their will be a Christmas special.

Also, some interesting things will be going down next chapter.

Hope you can enjoy.

Klaus sighed, a sound full with disappointment, shock, and utter disbelief. He turned around, looking at Bluddflagg and Lofn, who both gave him wildly different glances. One was full of sorrow and empathy, though he could sense something in that glare that hinted at other means, while the other was filled with pure anger, rage, and a bit of confusion.

"I don't understand. I look away for a minute. One. Just one, singular unit of time, that lasts up to sixty seconds, or sixty thousand milliseconds. And the next thing I know, Bluddflagg gets fire in his other eye, and can see again, and proceeds to nearly sink the ship in a temper tantrum worth legend." He mumbled, as he rubbed his gasmask, feeling the cold metal press against his skin. One thing that he reminded himself to do is perhaps pad it.

It was two weeks since they had first left Theramore, and now they had arrived in the continent of Northrend, otherwise known as the roof of the world.

And roof of the world it was, as Klaus was having trouble keeping himself warm. The other two didn't seem to have any problems whatsoever, even though Bluddflagg was probably half naked. Klaus wondered what material Lofn's robes were made of that kept her noticeably warm. Heretical the thought was, but it was a minor sin, in his eyes.

"I am completely baffled in how independable you two are." He continued, putting his arms across his chest, the metal plates that were sewn into his greatcoat moving with the action.

"Ta be honest, it aint me fault." Bluddflagg said in defence.

"He has a point. What happened was completely unpredictable." Lofn said, jumping to his defence. Klaus raised an eyebrow. He learned something new about her every day, it seemed.

"Even if it wasn't his fault, you cannot possibly defend the fact that he nearly sunk the damn ship." Klaus retorted, waving back to the ship, that was now being tended to in the harbor, Huge gashes in the upper section of the ship's hull were visible, of where Bluddflagg usually hung out. The two turned around to look where he was pointing at, and Lofn sheepishly turned away, her face turning a bright red, while Bluddflagg growled angrily, snorting, sending a puff of breath into the air, quickly turning into fog.

"Yer lukky dat da damn fing didnt even sink. Uvvawoise, you would have had ta swim." Bluddflagg grumbled.

"And you're lucky that I have developed somewhat of a restraint, otherwise, I would have gunned you down without a moment's notice." Klaus snarled. Bluddflagg growled, taking a few steps forward, standing up to his full height, nearly eight or nine feet tall.

"Watch yer mouth humie. One day, da Twig aint gunna hold me back." Bluddflagg growled.

"I'll be looking forward for it." Klaus replied. They continued to stare each other down, a pair of fingers itching towards a bolter, while another pair was reaching for a Shoota. However, before they tried to kill each other, Lofn squeezed herself between the two, forcing them back.

"Enough infighting from you two." Lofn demanded fiercely, clearly not intimidated by either of them. However, it didn't seem to work.

"Step aside twig. Gunna show ya wot happens when sumbody screws with me." Bluddflagg growled, his voice filled with sinister intent and malice.

"Please do. I am… eager to see your methods." Klaus said, before he glanced at Lofn, and she could practically see him smile. She silently mouthed something to him. Don't do it.

Too late.

"If you can even pull it off with a brain like your own." He said calmly, as his fingers grabbed the grip of the bolter. Bluddflagg roared in anger, the green fire in his eye turning into a pillar of flame, that jutted out of his skull like a horn.

"DATS IT HUMIE!" He snalred, as he swung his Powa Klaw. Klaus dodged the blow, jumping back, but he realised it wasn't even necessary.

Lofn sweeped her hand with so much force that Bluddflagg was sent flying back through the harbor, nearly ten feet away from their location. He smashed through a wooden pier, and tumbled into the dark waters. The horn of fire had returned to a small little pip of flame. It appeared that his new eye could reflect his masters emotions. Interesting.

"Awwww... Twig! Yoo got me suit all wet!" Bluddflagg moaned in dissatisfaction, looking at his now soaked dress uniform. Lofn stifled a giggle, while Klaus merely smiled slightly. They turned, as a man walked up to them. Dressed in Purple Robes along with a bejeweled black staff, it screamed psyker. Klaus took a few cautious steps back, making sure that his finger was still on the trigger. Though killing other humans wasn't exactly forbidden in the Korp (as long as you had a reason) the laws of the land here were different. However, that would not save any psyker that would try to manipulate him. Lofn was an exception, as for some reason, he could never really be purely angry at her. He tried, no doubt, but he could not do it. He had to investigate further into this. The man in the purple robes smiled, holding his hands in a placating gesture, as Bluddflagg clawed his way out of the ocean, as he could not swim, but was still tall enough to walk out.

"Greetings. I am The Magnificent Merleaux, but you may call me Merleaux. The man said, holding his hand out in a friendly gesture. Lofn quickly took it, shaking it with genuine happiness. Klaus was much more cautious. He reached out slowly, getting a confused look from both Lofn and Merleaux.

"Go on. I'm not going to bite your hand off." Merleaux said, chuckling softly.

"Don't even try it." Klaus growled, as he edged it forward a tad bit more, giving himself a mental push. Lofn sighed, as she grasped his hand, and yanked it forward. Klaus snapped her a look, as Merleaux gently shook it. Bluddflagg shook himself clean of water like a hound, and Klaus couldn't help but notice a few drops got on his shoulder pads. He wiped the drops of seawater (and possibly sweat) off, as Merleaux gazed at Bluddflagg for a good ten seconds. Bluddflagg shot Klaus a look full of poison, as he glanced back at the purple psyker.

"Nice hat." He mumbled. Merleaux laughed nervously, before looking back at Lofn.

"Miss Proudmoore told me all about you three, and I am excited to guide you to Dalaran. She would have met you . After we reach Dalaran though, it is up to you to get to the Argent Tournament." Merleaux replied. Klaus sighed. Great. Another long voyage of walking, stopping, and peeing.

"So we are walking?" Klaus asked, just to confirm his worst suspicions. Merleaux shook his head slightly.

"No." He said, smiling slightly, as he took out a great purple book from his sack. He opened it, and flipped several pages, before he stopped, and began to read. Familiar sigils formed around them, and Klaus realised too late what would happen.

"Not aga-"

/

Off the shore Sholazar Basin, was a small boat, that slowly sailed forward from the dreary mist. It was battle worn and torn, with many rips in its sails, and many holes in its hull. It was a miracle that it somehow managed to stay afloat. But it wasn't a miracle. Rather, it was a nightmare.

The boat slowly rocked forward, before it slowly pushed itself against the shore. The wood creaked and groaned, as several occupants leaped out. Two of the three were rather strange, and frightening. Standing nearly seven feet tall, these hunchbacked, red creatures were absolute monsters. Black tongues darted out from their twisted teeth like a serpent, while their claws grasped hellish flaming swords, with dozens of runes made from congealed blood and bone were embedded in the blades themselves. Brass rings were found along their black horns, and their fiery red eyes darted to the third figure. The third figure was a human, with such torn and ruined clothing that it could be considered indecent exposure at best, and full frontal nudity at worse. The human bent down, holding a tome in his hand. He opened it, and threw the book on the ground. It never touched the ground though, as it slowly rose up into the air, lifted by purple and red tendrils of energy. The man looked up, his once soft eyes now merely tiny specks in a sea of madness, grief, and insanity.

"Take me." He whispered, his voice trembling with conviction and greed. The tendrils of energy slammed into the human, and he exploded gloriously. Pieces of red and white meat were sent flying, and the red daemons licked their teeth hungrily at the sight of such carnage. However, as a new figure formed in the gore and flesh, they hissed in anger, swiping their swords in the air, leaving crackling waves of fire. A pink mess of flesh and bone appeared, holding a jeweled staff in one of its three hands, a large book in the other. The same, book. The daemon looked at the other daemons and smiled, it's crooked and fanged teeth turning into a nightmarish grin.

"You are no longer needed." The daemon merely said, as the bloodletters screamed. Red hooks appeared from a rift that had formed behind them, and they reached out, and dragged the roaring Bloodletters back into the rift.

"Come now U'zuhl… our masters have bonded us in this mission together… and you will answer my call…" Vo'ndrath whispered, as it continued to pool his energy through the rift. Soon, a figure approached. It stretched its neck and it's arms, as the rift closed. Standing eight feet tall, U'zuhl, one of the few exalted heralds of Khorne, was a sight to be reckoned. Wearing a black cape with the symbol of Khorne embroidered in brass, the back of the cape was covered with skulls of countless foes. A nightmarish, black serrated sword was held in one hand, while the other held a flaming skull. Two tusks sprouted out from the daemons head, nearly a foot in length, with brass rings on each of them. Two horns sprouted out from the top of the daemons head as well, with two skulls pierced on the tip. The daemons blood red eyes lit up with warpfire, and it grinned.

"LEAD ME TO SLAUGHTER…" Skulltaker, Executioner of Khorne grinned wildly. Vo'ndrath nodded, as the two daemons began to walk together down the coastline.

"I will lead you to slaughter U'zuhl. But first, we must acquire an army." It said. U'zuhl growled, staring back at Vo'ndrath.

"I WILL KILL ANY WHO OPPOSE US. THIS BURNING LEGION WILL TASTE MY BLADE, AND I SHALL HARVEST THEIR SKULLS FOR KHORNE, VO'NDRATH." He snarled back. Vo'ndrath winced when the daemon said it's true name. It was a show of trust, that each daemon knew their true name. It appeared that Khorne had finally realised how his rule could be threatened here.

"That we shall. But we cannot do this together." He said calmly. Skulltaker hissed, glancing at Vo'ndrath.

"AND WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN MIND, LIBRARIAN…" Skulltaker said mockingly. Vo'ndrath smiled slightly.

"The natives are weak minded, and can easily be led astray. We will have an army, and you will have your skulls."

/

As the sigils faded away, Klaus had to hold hold in his breakfast of hardtack and biscuits, as he fell to his knees, groaning. If this was the main transportation in Azeroth, he was going to have to get used to it. Or you know, find a different, less gut wrenching method. His two (one really) companions gasped, looking at the sight around him. Klaus rose himself up, smoothing out his uniform, as he looked around. Though he was impressed, it still lacked good old gothic architecture. The city was massive, with it spreading from as far as the eye could see. With its style of painting being a beige like color and a bright, and rather obnoxious purple, Klaus took a few moments to study the city. Many of the buildings were domed, and in the roads of the city and on some of the buildings were mysterious purple crystals. Another thing he noticed, as he took off his gasmask to take a quick breath test, was that it was rather thin, and cold. It was as if they were in a highly elevated position. Perhaps on a mountain, plateau, or steppe. Merleaux the Magnificent (he must love saying that) smiled, obviously pleased by their reactions.

"I welcome you, my friends, to Dalaran." He merely said, as he stepped aside, allowing Klaus to take in a better view, as he had blocked a rather tall building. Klaus snorted.

"Not nearly as impressive as the bunkers on Krieg, but I guess it's something." he mumbled, as he put his gasmask back on, tightening the straps. Merleaux clearly seemed intrigued by what he said. Klaus decided he would rather not have an information parasite leeching off what he had to say.

"I have already planned for housing. You will be spending several days here in Dalaran, and then you may leave." Merleaux said, adjusting his hat. Bluddflagg was staring greedily at it, almost like a lion looking at a piece of meat. It would have made even more sense if the animal licked his chops, though Bluddflagg did not do that.

"However, there are a few… requests, I ask of you to carry out." Merleaux asked sincerely, almost like he meant it. Klaus put his arms across his chest, already considering what he could do. Perhaps he could check out the markets again. He still had quite a lot of money (As it turned out, he was rather good at gambling, and many at Theramore were still rather mad at him)

"I ask that your… friend is to be supervised at all times. Though the Kirin Tor are Neutral, it won't take much to provoke them. So I ask you to keep him in control." Merleaux whispered to Lofn and Klaus, nudging his head at Bluddflagg's direction, who took out a tiny cigar, and put it in his fiery eye hole, perhaps seeing if he could light it. Klaus sighed, and was tempted to simply take the greenskins cigar and light it himself.

"And another thing, perhaps you could visit the Violet Citadel some time soon, and perhaps tell us, or show us of the places beyond." Merleaux asked, somewhat excited.

"What do you mean by that?" Lofn asked. Merleaux licked his lips, glancing at her.

"Well, Ms. Proudmoore told me that you two were… not of this realm. I would have called her mad, if I haven't seen you for myself." He explained. They were interrupted, as they heard a squealing noise. They turned to see Bluddflagg, rolling on the ground, his finger coated with green fire. Lofn immediately went to help, while Klaus considered doing a sketch of the scene that unfolded. Certainly would give him a good chuckle.

"You have some rather interesting friends. Tell me, how did you meet?" Merleaux asked, who appeared to be amused as he was, as Bluddflagg was rolling around in the grass, squealing like a pig in pain, as the green fire now consumed his hand. It didn't seem to actually burn or scorch his skin like promethium, but perhaps just hurt him. Klaus sighed, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

"Trust me, it's a long… long story." He mumbled. Merleaux nodded, perhaps aware to tread lightly with such information. At least he had a form of decency when it came to privacy. Unlike someone he knew…

"Are you engaged with the girl?" Merleaux asked casually, obviously not expecting what would happen next. Klaus turned on his heel, snatching the psyker by the coattails, and picking him up without too much trouble.

"No. We are not engaged." He said sternly, putting the psyker back on the ground, giving him a clear warning to which he greedily took. Don't mention it again. He glanced back at Bluddflagg, who was now being somewhat pacified by Lofn, even though she didn't do much really. Anything, actually. But it had a visible effect on Bluddflagg, who was slowly calming down, looking at his hand, which was completely unmarked by the green fire. Klaus then noticed something. The horned skull on the rack. It was looking at him. Directly, at him. While the other heads on the trophy rack were looking straight forward, the horned skull of Varimathras was looking directly at him. He narrowed his eyes, as he moved several steps to the left, and then to the right. The skull was following his every movement. Something was gravely wrong with that trophy of his, and Klaus would get to the bottom of it. However, as Bluddflagg got up, the skull swiveled on the spike it had been mounted on, turning straight forward, though Klaus couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched by it. He turned away from Bluddflagg, as Merleaux invited them to a tour of Dalaran itself. Klaus kept a hand firm on the handle of his sword, gripping it so tight that underneath his gloves, his fingers turned white. Something bad was going to happen, and he knew it.

/

So instead of spying on Bluddflagg constantly (which felt creepy in his opinion) Klaus decided to explore Dalaran a bit more. The tour was over, and the sun was slowly setting, giving a mesmerizing blend of colors across the sky, which filled many others with a sense of calamity and ease. However, Klaus was far from ease.

To begin with, the reason why the air was so cold, and so thin, was that the city was floating. Floating. As in, not touching the ground. He was astounded when he heard that, but then Merleaux hit him with an even larger sock to the head. That a rather large percentage of the city were psykers and spellcasters. Somewhere around the sixtieth percentile, if he remembered.

Unacceptable. Absolutely, one hundred percent, unacceptable. Such a high concentration of psykers in one place was very, very dangerous. So he kept in mind what many spellcasters looked like around here. While other psykers tried to hide, or at least stay hidden, the psykers here really tried to show it off. They usually wore robes and carried staffs, though perhaps their appearance could differentiate.

"Damn psykers… why the hell can't they look the same…" He mumbled to himself, as he glanced at a group of people that walked down the same road he was on. He could tell several of them had arcane staffs, having jewels twirl around the tip of their staffs, somehow defying gravity. Klaus took several steps to the side, giving a wide berth of space between him and the group of sorcerers. They looked at him strangely, though it seemed to be less on him, and more on the gilded bolter, which peeked out from his cloak every now and then. It was still cold too, though at least it wasn't snowing. It was simple. He couldn't trust them. Anyone of them, as a matter of fact. Perhaps he was being paranoid, or worried over nothing, but Klaus, like many other humans in the Imperium had been taught from birth, to fear the psyker, to burn the heretic, and to kill the xeno. These things would never leave his mind, as he glanced back at the group of wizards, who were still rather far away. Klaus took a deep breath, sighing, as he began to continue striding forward.

"You're worrying over nothing. They are just psykers. Perhaps not even psykers. Maybe… individuals with rare talents and abilities? Well, they aren't blanks, thats for sure. I could use a blank as a companion. Would be useful…" he mumbled to himself, as he finally stopped walking, and took a deep breath. He was thirsty, cold, and hungry. He hadn't eaten anything since morning, and it was nearly sunset… Maybe he could just…

"No. It could be run by psykers too. Cooking food with their witchcraft." He mumbled. He was so caught up in his thoughts he didn't notice a certain nosy intruder sneak up behind him. Almost.

Grabbing the bolter from its holster, he whipped around, pointing the bolter straight at the intruder. Lofn didn't even flinch.

"Pulling a gun on me, or are you just excited to see me?" She asked playfully, as he put away the bolter.

"Both." He merely replied. They stared at each other for a few moments, before Klaus turned around, and began to walk away.

"Where are you going?" She asked, as she caught up to him disturbingly quickly.

"I'm going to find somewhere to have dinner." He merely said.

"I see. Well, you know where to go at Nightfall, right?" She asked, her playful tone gone. She really took this 'responsibility' of keeping him safe seriously. Something that he respected, and was worried about at the same time.

"Yes. 'A Hero's Welcome' in the Silver Enclave." He mumbled. She nodded, and as she began to turn away, Klaus got an idea from literally nowhere. He scratched his head unconsciously, though in reality, his gloves merely rasped on his helmet. It began to itch. Again.

"Would you like to dine with me?" He asked, completely unaware of what he said. She froze. So did he. His eyes widened in surprise at what he had said, and before he could even try to retract his statement, she turned around, smiling coyly, her face turning a bright pink.

"I would be delighted too." She said, giving him that damn smile. Sometimes he wished he could slap it off, though for some reason, it never came into his mind. Klaus wanted to say something, but it disappeared from his mind. Instead, he merely sighed quietly. _Look what you got yourself in now…_ he thought to himself, as they walked to the inn, both wondering how this had happened.

/

Mista Nailbrain heaved with one last pull, as he desperately tried to drag the Necron's body through the snow. The explosion that Spookums had set off was devastating, nearly collapsing every tunnel leading to the Old Kingdom. It was only luck, and luck alone that he had managed to escape, but the explosion seemed to have knocked a screw or two loose in the Necron's body, and now it refused to work. And now, he was stuck out in a blizzard, in the middle of the open.

And he knew, that if he did not find shelter soon, he wasn't going to last very long.

"Damn ya tin kan. First ya killed Spookums, now yer dyin on me too…" Mista Nailbrain mumbled, as he pulled on the Necrons body one more time, just to see if perhaps, he could pull him out anymore. It didn't work. He sighed, and pulled as hard as he could. However, the slick black metal slipped from his grasp, and he was sent flying into the snow, dousing himself with white powder. He hissed, shaking his hands free of snow, and snarled in anger. He took out his Kustom Shoota, and lit the fuse on the Burna Attachment.

"DIS IS YER FAULT!" He roared in anger, as he pulled the trigger down on his Burna. A jet of red and orange flame coated the Necrons body, burning away at the robes that adorned its body. It scorched, crackled, and popped, as he continued to burn the metal body in rage, screaming out in anger and desperation as he did it. He kept pulling the trigger, yelling obscene curses and insults, until one last puff of flame erupted from the Burna, before it stopped. Mista Nailbrain shook it. It was out of juice. Mista Nailbrain growled, as he started to walk away. If he couldn't get the Necron up, then he was going to leave him behind. He didn't need that tin kan for protection. He could do it himself, likitysplit. No worries, no worries whatsoever. It was starting to turn dark too, and he couldn't have that.

"Shulda saved some juice…" He mumbled, when he had an idea. He dropped his tool kit, and rummaged through it, tossing aside loose rivets and screws. So busy going through his stuff, he barely heard footsteps. His eyes shot up, scanning the cold environment. He saw nothing. He glanced down, as he took out his welda. He screwed it open, taking out the fuel canister. He put it to his mouth, and sucked on it a little. The corrosive liquid burned at his tongue, and he spat the vile thing out, as be pushed the nozzle of the canister to the open cap on his Burna. It quickly began to fill up, until it started to overflow. He took the fuel canister out, and screwed the cap back onto the Burna. He shoved the fuel canister back into the Welda, and shoved his tool kit back into his sack, as he trudged through the snow.

"Gotta find the kapn… gotta find the kapn… gotta find the kapn…" He mumbled, as he reached into his pack, reaching for the majik talkie, when a whistling noise was heard. Before he could react, a searing pain erupted from his ankle, and he roared in pain. He fell to the ground, hissing in anger. He looked down at his foot. An arrow was wedged into the side of his left foot, and it was in deep. He grabbed the shaft of the arrow, and began to pull. The pain grew worse, and he snarled in pain, as he yanked it out. Looking at the arrowhead, he realised that it was not only twisted, but barbed, and perhaps by the strange sheen, it was also poisoned, but most likely it was diluted. Whoever shot this, intended for their target to be as immobilized as orkly possible.

Mista Nailbrain only had seconds to absorb this information, before he was smacked on by the back of the head with a black club. Several teeth were dislodged from his mouth, as he was sent face first into the snow. He groaned, slowly rising up, before another hit sent him back down.

"He's the one." A rather familiar voice said. Mista Nailbrain spat out a glob of mucus and blood, as he tried to remember who's voice that belong to. Another hit in the back of the head.

"What of the other one?" Another voice asked. Another hit in the back of the head. Their voices were airy, and light, yet filled with malice and dark intent. Another hit in the back of the head.

"Leave it. This one, is the one she wants the most." The first voice replied. Mista Nailbrain felt a finger go under his chin, and felt it gently lift his head. He gasped in realization at who it was. It was Clea. The Dark Ranger. She hadn't changed much, with her menacing visage of blood red eyes and rather non decayed skin. She made a frown of some sort, with her lips puckered up, as she leaned in, and whispered in his ear.

"I'm sorry." She merely whispered, as another hit from the black club knocked him in the noggin so hard, he was barely conscious. He felt several people grab his legs, as he was slowly dragged away. He weakly reached out, trying to go for his shoota, to the Necron, to anything really. However, it would not save him. Nothing could anymore.


	53. Chapter 53: Anything can Happen

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So here is the next chapter, which is kind of filler, I will admit.

Also, would like to ask if you could check out my new fanfiction 'Mean and Green'

*Cough* Shameless self promotion *cough*

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

The five grenadiers ran through the ruined streets, passing the group of petrified skeletons, a mother and her children, holding each other. They were relics of a war long fought, and now their statues still remained. While many were completely vaporized in the atomic blast, a rare few suffered a far worse fate in certain areas, becoming completely covered in fallout and ash, coating their skin like magma. Petrification.

The grenadiers slowed their movement, coming to a rusty and rotten church door, leading to the chapel within. They pressed against the wall of the church on either side.

Klaus held up his hand, holding his hellgun in his other hand, as he took a peek through the shattered, and stained church window. The opposition was nowhere to be seen. However, it felt quiet… too quiet.

He muttered to himself, his gasmask heaving as he breathed, as he walked up to the front of the door. Instantly, two grenadiers peeled off from the wall, kneeling down onto the dirty and charred pavement, pulling their weapons up. One lasgun, and one plasma gun. Klaus kicked at the door with all of his strength. His prosthetic helped with the job considerably, and it proved so, as it became lodged within the rotting wood. Immediately, bullets rang out, pelting through the wood. Klaus felt one of the slugs smack into his breastplate, and he freed his leg, as the whole gate came crashing down. Mutants. Disgusting, filthy, mutants. He felt a hand grab him by the shoulder plate, and drag him away from the gunfire, as the two grenadiers by his side provided covering fire. Crackling beams of energy from the lasgun killed several of the mutants, while one plasma shot turned the unfortunate beast into a shower of cinders. They rolled out of the way of the peppered autogun fire, and the Grenadiers found themselves stuck together. Klaus sighed. He was technically the most experienced of the grenadiers at his command, so he began to give out orders.

"943275-129837 and 816320-835182, provide covering fire." He commanded, interrupted by a bullet getting him right in the side of his helmet. The impact panged against the metal, giving him a nasty bump on the side of the head. At least the Mutants did not have anything heavy.

"Me and 435612-983610 will advance forward, and kill as many mutants as possible. 173042-999842, give me a number count." He said, finishing his orders. 173042-999842 peeked through the hallway, and pulled back after a split second, a autogun round nailing him straight in his helmet crest.

"Twelve mutants, it seems, though more should be deeper within the chapel." He reported. Klaus nodded, as he glanced back at Karen, who was on the opposite side of the doorway. He noticed that her paper white hair was starting to peek out of her helmet. She needed a haircut, he noticed.

"Go." He simply said. 943275-129837 and 816320-835182 rolled into the doorway, and poured a hailstorm of sizzling red beams of energy towards the ranks of the mutants. The volley scythed through seven of them with virtually no trouble whatsoever, while the remaining five went into cover. Klaus and Karen ran between the pause in gunfire, as they slided into cover, Karen hiding behind a stone pillar, while Klaus slid right behind a collapsed pile of ruin. Not the best, but it had to do. As the mutants peeked up, the hail of gunfire from 943275-129837 and 816320-835182 over, it was his turn to reply. He aimed with his hellgun, said a quiet prayer, and pulled the trigger. The recoil pushed on his shoulder, as a burst of las bolts ripped a furry mutant apart, tearing apart its white and black skin. As he ducked down from the pour of gunfire that headed his way, Karen got up, and fired another volley of lasbeams, searing another mutant. Then as she ducked down, 943275-129837 and 816320-835182 fired from the doorway, killing the remaining mutants. Klaus and Karen rose up, pointing their weapons through the doorway that lead to the chapel itself. The three grenadiers behind them entered the lobby slowly. Klaus nudged his head to the mutant corpses. 943275-129837 nodded, and began to police the mutant bodies, giving them a quick kick. To the very few that still lived, they were rewarded for their tenacity with a quick bolt of energy. Finally, the last body was policed.

"Clear." 943275-129837 mumbled. Klaus nodded, as he waved the grenadiers forward. They began to slowly walk through the lobby of the cathedral. It was notably dark, as they had left the sunlight, and it was nearly pitch black.

"Light." Klaus ordered. 173042-999842 took out a lighter, and grabbed several rags from the floor, and wrapped it around a piece of metal debris. He then lit the rag. It slowly glowed, providing a soft orange glow in the pitch blackness. Klaus pointed to the door that had been revealed in front of them. 943275-129837 and 816320-835182 ran up to the door, crouching on each side of the old metal gate, while Klaus kneeled down infront of it. Slowly, 816320-835182 reached for the knob. Gunfire followed, and Klaus got out of the way, as bullets ripped through the rusty gate, making it fall. It revealed another part of the cathedral, where the remaining mutants must have been hiding out. Klaus had only took a glance, but he counted roughly thirty of the scum. This would be hard fought.

"Grenade." He ordered. Karen took out a frag grenade from her belt, and put it in his glove, as he pulled the pin, and threw it into the room. Garbled speech could be heard, as a second after, the grenade exploded. Shrapnel pinged throughout the room, and one small piece got lucky, and lodged itself within his prosthetic. Klaus glanced down at the now ripped pant leg, revealing the titanium prosthetic underneath. Bionics were of extreme rarity in the korps, as often, if you lost a limb, you would have lost your life soon after. Having a bionic was a symbol of honor, almost as honorable as rings.

"Go." He said. Karen and 173042-999842 opened fire at the dazed mutants, killing half a dozen of them in the first volley of gunfire, as Klaus and 816320-835182 ran into the room, firing with years of firing discipline. Not a single shot was wasted, and every one was aimed for their mark. While some missed, some hit, and those that did were brutal and gory. Limbs were severed, skin was seared, charred, and cooked, and bone was blackened and scarred. One of the mutants let out foul battle cry and charged, swinging a sharpened rusty cleaver. Klaus fired at the mutant without a second thought, but the mutant dodged the shot, engaging in melee. It swung the blade in a eviscerating motion that would have cut Klaus in half if he didn't move out of the way. The cleaver slammed into the floor of the cathedral, and it had become stuck. Klaus went out to punch the mutant, but it caught it, giving Klaus a good look at is face. Its eyes were reptilian in nature, with a black corona and a green pupil. It hissed, revealing a set of crooked and chipped needle like teeth, as it tossed him aside with inhuman strength. He was sent flying into a pillar, his hellgun ripping out of its tube. He growled, as he reached for his laspistol, and fired a quick shot at another mutant, who had taken this as an opportunity to find a new spot of cover. The lasbeam seared a direct hit on the mutants neck, boiling a hole through its dark skin. It collapsed, dropping its battered autogun. Klaus glanced back at the other mutant, who had yanked out its cleaver from the ground. It charged at Klaus, and Klaus knew that he didn't have enough time to get out of the way. So instead, he went right for it. The mutant's eyes widened in surprise, and then in rage, as Klaus tackled the mutant, sending the cleaver flying. Klaus unleashed several punches to the mutants face, and it snatched him by the neck. Klaus continued to kick at the mutant, as it raised him up, snarling. However, its arm became eviscerated at the elbow. It screamed in agony, grabbing its blackened stump, and snapped its head to the aggressor. Karen charged, using her lasgun like a club. It smashed into the creature's mouth, sending a gout of dark ichor and yellow teeth out from the mutants mouth. It was sent sprawling to the floor. Karen offered a hand, while Klaus shot the mutant in the back of the head, as it tried to flee.

Klaus nodded his head in thanks, an action that would have spoken volumes considering how often this had happened between the two. They had been through hell together, and nothing could have separated them.

"Clear." 943275-129837 said aloud, as he shot the final mutant, which had been crawling away on its three arms. Klaus took out a small device from his satchel, and pressed several buttons, and put it up to his mouth.

"The mutants have been cleared. Firing Practice operation 13451-2134BA complete." Klaus said casually. The vox crackled, as a voice came onto the vox.

"This is Commissariat 567213-997431. Good work Grenadier 652733-172948. Any casualties?" The Commissar asked. Klaus glanced at his squad, before he replied.

"No casualties, though we do have a broken hellgun." Klaus said, as Karen handed him his hellgun, which seemed to have suffered quite a nasty fall. The Commissar snorted, clearly unimpressed.

"Hm. I hope you know, 652733-172948, that the price of a hellgun is far more then your life. Pray that the Quartermasters do nothing more then chew you out... Chimera 55482 is enroute to training zone 671. Standby for pickup." The commissar replied. Klaus nodded, and shut the vox off, and stashed it into his satchel. The grenadiers formed a circle, and sat down on the cold floor, all breathing heavily.

"So 652733-172948, how close are you to getting your first term?" 943275-129837 asked casually, resting his back against a ruined pillar. Klaus did some calculations in his head.

"78 more days until I get to my first term." Klaus replied. The grenadiers nodded their heads.

"So you'll be getting your first ring soon, correct?" 173042-999842 asked. Klaus nodded his head. Rings were a tradition developed by the Fifth Siege Regiment to show veterancy. After every six years, a small white ring was painted around each of a soldier's lenses. Generally, the more rings you had, the more experienced you were. While a vast majority of ring bearers only made it to one ring, that was still somewhat impressive. Six years in the Imperial Guard, no less the Death Korps was quite a milestone. Many Watchmasters had two or three rings, and those who had four or five rings were considered demigods in their own right. For someone who had survived nearly 24 or even 30 years in the Korps had to have divine assistance, for it was nearly impossible.

One such Korpsman was 111782-990712 'Unsterbliche'. Unsterbliche was considered unkillable by many Korpsmen, if not all of them. He was the only living Korpsman to ever achieve eight rings. He had refused the promotion of Watchmaster, saying that 'I will never lead Guardsmen behind a wall, but in the front lines itself.' He had been promoted and demoted to a Grenadier at least twelve times, and his achievements were unsurpassable. He had fought a Khornate Champion in hand to hand combat with only a chainsword and won, hijacked a Riptide Battlesuit and killed the occupant with a single laspistol shot, and even resisted mental domination from a chaos sorcerer. He had even been investigated for heresy, as such resistance to the dark powers would have been fishy to any other regiment, but as he still lived to this day, to the death korps, it was simply normal. Rings were important to the Fifth, and Klaus would receive his ring with pride.

The circle was silent once again, as each grenadier sat perfectly still, their only movement being the heaving of their chestplates.

"435612-983610, how many campaigns have you had with 652733-172948?" 943275-129837 asked. Klaus glanced at Karen, who spared 943275-129837 a look, before she shrugged.

"Eight, I believe." She replied. One of the grenadiers whistled, though who did it, was unknown.

"Ever considered retiring for, well, procreation?" 816320-835182 asked. Klaus widened his eyes in surprise at the comment, while Karen merely giggled. Klaus could feel his cheeks turning a rosy color, and he was glad that all of their lenses were heavily tinted, otherwise they would have seen the embarrassment in his eyes.

"Well. Anything can happen." Karen replied, as she glanced at him. He could practically see her smile underneath her mask. They heard tracks rolling up, and the grenadiers picked up their kit and began to leave. Klaus thought about what 816320-835182 had said, and shrugged. Anything can happen. If only he knew how real that statement was.

/

"Klaus, were you even paying attention?" Lofn demanded. Klaus shook his head of the memory, his senses scrambling to figure out what was going on. This was right before he walked into the pole. His helmet smashed into the pole, making the sign creak above it. He hissed in pain, rubbing his helmet. He glanced at Lofn, and shrugged.

"I guess not." He said sheepishly. Lofn sighed, rubbing her face.

"Great, so when I ask you for a story, you go into great detail of how humanity is superior, but when you ask me for a story, you don't even have the decency to pay attention?" She said, her voice rather neutral, though Klaus did detect a tad bit of anger in her voice.

"Apologies. Was thinking of something." He said, somewhat sincerely. This made her smile slightly, and she glanced at the door in front of them. Soft music could be heard within the inn. A Hero's Welcome, as the inn was called. Odd name, but he came to the conclusion that Azeroth denizens were rather bad at naming things. Klaus opened the door, nudging his head inside. A gush of warm air blasted him, as he opened, and Lofn smiled, walking through the doorway. Klaus came in, and closed the door behind him. He took a long look at the inn in front of him. It seemed that it was late for the inn, as their were very few people in the tavern itself. Two people were at the bar, while one was playing the piano in the corner of the room. Two large stairwells led to another level of the Inn, though that wasn't really important. Klaus closed the door. A little bell rang as he closed the door, and he wiped his boots on the mat in front of the door. Lofn had already taken a table. Klaus glanced at a small rack that stood beside the door. It carried hats and the like. Bluddflagg would have loved that. Bluddflagg liked hats, and why, was a mystery to him.

Inside of his head, a massive mental war was being taken place. It was a battle of an unstoppable force meeting with an immovable object. On one side of the mental battlefield, was his conscious, his teachings, and his Id. They yelled at him, no, screamed at him, to turn back. Letting these xenos, psykers, mutants, hybrids live was one thing. But to engage in such an act was a heresy that was unforgivable! He was consorting with a hybrid, an abhuman! He was consorting with, making friends with, hell! Romancing, an abhuman? Did he want his children to grow into monstrosities, into MUTANTS? No! Turn back, turn back, and run while you can!

On the other side was a strange, foreign, almost alien presence, one that told him to continue this path, and told him that his Id, was wrong. This is not consorting. You are merely having dinner, with an acquaintance. You are not even going to touch her. All you are going to do, is eat, and have a conversation. Perhaps even a drink.

HAVE A DRINK? ARE YOU INSA-

Klaus shut himself out of his brain, taking a deep breath. He almost felt like something was scuttling around in his skull, and he shook his head from side to side. That seemed to do the trick. He sighed, as he walked over to the table, pulled up a chair, and sat down. The plates of armor dug into his skin, and Klaus almost considered taking his greatcoat off, if only for comfort sakes. At the thought of that, he could hear one of his inner selves quite literally screaming. It was starting to get annoying now. Klaus sighed, as he took off his gasmask, and took a breath. Here, the air was thicker, which was a small pleasure. Lofn was staring at him, with strange intensity, her hands balled into fists, placed underneath her chin. Her brown eyes poured into his own, and he shifted around uncomfortably.

"This should be interesting." A voice said, and he saw something move in the corner of his eye. Klaus glanced over to his left, and saw with surprise that Legion was leaning up against one of the pillars, his arms across his black breastplate. His bolter how hung on his belt, and his red eyes were gazing intensly at him. Klaus opened his mouth to say something, but Legion interrupted him.

"No one else but you can see me. Though the spellcasters could be able to detect my presence." Legion explained, before he waved one of his hands in Klaus's direction, almost casually.

"Now go on." He mumbled. Klaus gulped, glancing back at Lofn. She hadn't moved a single inch. Her eyes followed his every moment, and Klaus could feel a bead of sweat on his forehead. Klaus chuckled awkwardly, stretching the collar of his greatcoat as far as it could go, as if to let the heat that had builded up in his chest escape.

"So uh…" Klaus mumbled, finally breaking the silence. She shifted slightly, still giving him that intense stare.

"So how is it on a craftworld?" He blurted out. She shifted again, as she began playing with her hair, twirling a strand around her pale finger.

"It's good. The people there are nice… sometimes..." She said softly. Followed by another awkward silence, as Klaus twiddled with his thumbs. It still wasn't too late to back out. He could simply leave the table, get up, and go to his room in the inn. It was that simple really.

However, a wrench was thrown straight in the middle of his plans to make a break for it, when a woman walked up to them. Wearing a slightly stained white apron and brown leather clothing, the woman smiled, holding a small pad of paper, and a quill dipped with ink.

"What would you like to order?" She asked. It was only at this point that Klaus had actually noticed the menu that was placed in front of him. Lofn had pushed it to him with a soft flick of a finger. He grabbed the menu, and read through the choices.

"I'll have the soup." He decided, handing the menu to the woman. She glanced at Lofn.

"And you?" she asked. Lofn glanced at Klaus, before back at the woman.

"I'll have the salad." She merely said. The woman nodded, finishing writing the order (at least he thought) before she walked away. Klaus sighed. This was going to be a long night.

"So… have anything to share?" Lofn asked softly, glancing back at him. He scratched his head at the spot.

"I suppose… what do you want to hear?" He asked. Lofn shrugged.

"Anything I suppose." She merely said. Klaus sighed, as he prepared to tell a story. But she stopped him.

"Don't tell me a story. Tell me what's on your mind." She demanded. Klaus raised an eyebrow.

"Well… where to begin…" Klaus mumbled.

/

Skulltaker growled in anger, as its mighty hellblade swept through one of the Undead Creatures with pathetic ease. The ghoul screeched, as its legs were severed from its torso. The body of the ghoul fell to the ground, where Skulltaker grabbed it by the neck. It ripped off its head, and cast the bulbous thing aside. The Blood God would not even consider taking skulls from creatures so weak. It was pathetic, and Skulltaker was deeply angered. Sweeping his hellblade in a low slash, Skulltaker obliterated a score of charging zombies, and their bodies were quickly consumed by a torrent of warpfire, leaving only their charred skeletons.

"THESE FOES ARE PATHETIC." It roared in frustration, as it swept his sword in another blow, slaying another group of undead. The Librarian stood behind Skulltaker, hovering in the air, as it let out a cone of warp energy, that ripped the flesh off of the creature's bones, and turned them into vapor. Skulltaker was disgusted by this sorcery, and he absolutely loathed it. Skulltaker, loathed a lot of things, that did not involve killing. Skulltaker hated, loathed, and was disgusted by sorcery, and it so dearly wished to simply murder Vo'ndrath.

However, Khorne and Tzeentch had formed a pact, nearly impossible as it was. When Skulltaker was told by Khorne himself about the plan, Skulltaker was infuriated, enraged, and deeply angered. It was only by a bribe of killing Tzeentch's favored champion, which had gotten Skulltaker interested.

This pathetic scum was not even worth to be in his sight, as he butchered the remnants of the undead. He didn't even take a single hit, as he sliced the final skeletons chest into two pieces, sending the jumble of bones falling to the ground.

"WHAT IS THIS SICK JOKE…" Skulltaker demanded, snatching one of the corpses, displaying it with unhidden rage. Vo'ndrath grabbed the corpse, looking it over.

"I do not know my friend. However, one thing is clear. The Black Sorcerer is here on this continent." Vo'ndrath growled. Skulltaker glanced at the corpses around its feet.

"HOW DO YOU KNOW?" He growled. Vo'ndrath glanced at Skulltaker, before looking back at the ring of corpses.

"They bear his signature. Though I am not sure how he had done something like this, He controls these things." Vo'ndrath mumbled, poking one of the corpses with its staff.

"WHEN DO I GET TO KILL HIM." Skulltaker snarled in anger.

"Patience, U'zuhl. We will find the treacherous worm soon." The daemonic herald of Tzeentch replied as he looked at the desiccated body his "ally" had shown him. It was a member of one species native to the area, and looked like someone had taken a wolverine from ancient Terra and made it into a bipedal beast around the same size as an average human.

Looking through the pile of dead the Khornate daemon had slaughtered he saw more of these beasts, as well as some that looked like mutated frogs. He sensed some latent talent towards warpcraft in some of the corpses, more of the amphibians showed this talent than the wolverine looking beasts. A plan was born as it realized this, causing a cackle to break from its lips. "WHAT IS SO FUNNY, LIBRARIAN?"

"My dear Skulltaker," the herald of Tzeentch spoke in a tone that spoke of plots and schemes. "While we could carve our way through the traitor's ranks with ease, why should we waste our effort on such... _unworthy_ foes?"

Khorne's general growled low in its throat, "WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN MIN, YOU FEATHERED WORM? EVERY MOMENT WE SPEND TALKING IS ANOTHER WASTED THAT I COULD SPEND IN SERVICE OF KHORNE!"

Vo'ndrath repressed an aggravated sigh, "As the bodies before us show, the traitor has been ramping up his 'recruitment' from amongst the locals…" Here he gestured at the mostly recognizable and not decayed bodies of the Wolvars and Gorlocs, "As the saying goes, what is good for one is good for another. We shall split up, and bring these species under the banner of our lords, as the disdain with which you beings of Khorne hold sorcery in is well known, I suggest you direct your efforts to turning those furried creatures into berserkers worthy of your lord...I shall, on the other hand, turn these amphibians to fully understand the skills with the warp they were blessed with."

The Skulltaker understood the plan easily, "AND USING THESE PRIMITIVES, TIE UP THE FORCES OF THE TREASONOUS SORCERER SO WE MAY FIGHT WORTHY FOES." The daemon let out a bellowing laugh, "AS MUCH AS I DESPISE YOU, I MUST AGREE THAT YOUR PLAN WILL BRING THE MOST GLORY TO OUR LORDS. YOU DO YOUR PART LIBRARIAN, AND I SHALL TURN THESE PATHETIC CREATURES INTO SOMETHING WORTHY OF KHORNE'S ATTENTION!"

The Librarian smiled sinisterly, "Don't worry about my part, after all you have blood to spill… What is it you thick brained berserkers shout as you serve your master?" Here he pretended to think, before speaking in a sinister and silken tone that would freeze the blood of veteran warriors: "Ah yes: Blood, for the blood god...Skulls, for the skull throne."

With a roar of approval, the Khornate daemon summoned his Juggernaut mount, Khul'tyran. The red plated daemonic warbeast roared in anger and hate, ready to spill blood. Skulltaker snatched the juggernaut by its reins, and began to gallop away, intent on finding these tribals and subjugating them in the name of Khorne, and speeding off towards the Frenzyheart Tribe. The Librarian chuckled, and slowly started walking in the direction Oracle alliance, its form shifting to look like a more evolved version of a Gorloc, "Let the games begin."

/

"And well.. That's pretty much it." Klaus mumbled. That hurt. Like, a knife in his guts hurt. Confession was a way to relieve your sins. To get the burden off of your back. Yet somehow, Klaus only felt worse.

"So you're… worried, about your actions?" She asked, just as the waiter came over, two bowls in hand. She put the steaming bowl in front of Klaus, while she slid the plate full of vegetables in front of Lofn. Klaus glanced at the wooden bowl, and took the spoon out of the soup, and took a sip. It was rather thick for a soup, more like a stew, if anything. He took another spoonful. It burned at his throat, as he swallowed the concoction.

"Yes, in a way. As you may know, sins on the soul account for quite a lot of things. Passage to the Golden Gates, for one." He replied. She glanced up at him.

"Golden Gates?" She asked. He took another spoonful.

"Yes, the Golden Gates. Where every man and woman goes to when they die, to be judged by the emperor and the souls of the primarchs to see if their accomplishments in life have served enough of a purpose to please him, might he is." He replied.

"And as so, the more sins that tally up, the more that I fear that all of my efforts will be for naught." He added on.

"Perhaps so…" She said quietly. They stared at each other for a few moments, before they went back to eating.

"It's snowing outside." She pointed out. Klaus glanced to his side, where Legion was standing. He took a few steps to the side, revealing the frost covered windows.

"That it is." Klaus merely said, going back to his food. They were quiet for a few minutes, before he heard a plate slide. Klaus looked up. She had finished. He glanced down at his bowl. He barely had even started.

"If you're done, you can go." Klaus mumbled, going back to his soup.

"I don't see a reason to. Why not have a talk?" She asked. Klaus furrowed his eyebrows, anger fermenting within his body.

"Talk. That's all you want. Perhaps you never take a moment to realize what I would want. Some damn privacy." He growled. Lofn took the note, and pushed her chair in, and left. Klaus sighed. He didn't want to say it like that...

'Now look at what you've done', the strange and foreign part of his brain said. 'You should apologise.'

'APOLOGISE? FOR WHAT?' The other part of his brain screamed.

'You caused her discomfort.'

'DISCOMFORT? SHE DOESN'T DESERVE COMFORT TO BEGIN WITH! SHE DESERVES TO LIVE IN FEAR!'

Klaus expelled these thoughts for his head for now, as Legion walked over, sitting in Lofn's seat.

"Admirable work. Many others would have cracked under such pressure." Legion merely said. Klaus looked up in confusion.

"Admirable? What was admirable about that?" He demanded.

"I say admirable, as you have done something that I had not accounted for you to do. I say admirable, because you had put yourself in a situation that very, very few have ever gotten themselves into." Legion began to explain, before Klaus shook his head.

"No. Nothing admirable could be seen in such a situation. Heretical, is the proper word. Unfortunate, is the proper word. Damn near treasonous, is the proper word. I hate myself for this. For everything I have done so far in my time here. Nothing you can say can change that. It's almost like you promote these unorthodox actions." He snarled. Klaus noticed he had attracted the attention of several of the barkeeps. He finished off the stew, reached into his bag, and took out several gold coins. He slammed them onto the table surface, and began to leave. Legion was still sitting, though he too got up, and began to follow him.

"If that is your opinion, then you may keep it, and follow it with all your will." Legion said, as he reached the top of the staircase first.

"I would like to inform you that Bluddflagg was watching from the window." Legion said. Klaus froze, and sighed, rubbing his face. Bluddflagg was NOT going to go easy on him with this...


	54. Chapter 54: Christmas Special

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

This chapter is co written by Deathwatch Razgriz. I suggest you go check it out

*cough* shameless promotion *cough*

Anyways, have a merry late Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa and have a happy new year!

Klaus hated a lot of things. Hate was a rather peculiar word in his mind. It is very easy to dislike something. Stepping in poo, getting your clothes wet, losing a round in a match, tripping. Those were things you disliked. But when you hate something, you must dislike it VERY strongly to use such a word. And without a doubt, Klaus could say that he hated a new thing, next to Xenos, Heretics, and Mutants. Snow.

Snow was the reason that he had to spend three more weeks in Dalaran. Three more weeks then he wanted to, or needed to. With a horrendous blizzard outside in the world that was actually killing people who stayed out for too long, Dalaran was completely snowed in. With the cold grey sky outside, Klaus sighed, taking a sip of hot chocolate. He saw the peculiar 'elementals' doing their best to clear the streets. Floating torrents of flame, lava and magma spewed out fiery bursts of flame at the climbing mountains of snow, desperately trying to stem the tide of powdery white snow. However, it only worked to keep it back, but not to gain any ground. He supposed that this was one disadvantage of being in high altitude. He took another sip from his mug. The warm liquid was poured into his mouth, where he swished it around a little bit, before he swallowed, and sighed. He appreciated these moments. Where he was alone, and had nothing to worry about. Nothing to think about. Nothing to do. He took another sip, and sighed, listening to the fire roaring in the heath, filling the air with the sound of crackling wood. He looked into the fire, seeing twisting figures within the embers and sparks and ashes. He took another sip, and put his mug to the side, and shifted in his chair, as he went to his satchel, and pulled out his journal. He took out his trusty pencil, and started to flip through the pages. Each page was a memory of a life far simpler, and he wished he could simply go back to those times. But that couldn't happen. Not anymore. He continued to turn, page after page, until one in particular made him pause. It wasn't a sketch really, but a table full of numbers. He glanced at the table and read through each one, and then he paused, and realised something. Tomorrow was his Birthday. On the Terran calendar, December 24th.

"Salutations on living for another year. Let's see if you can get to the next one." He mumbled to himself, as he clinked his mug against the wooden wall, and finished it off, wiping his mouth of light brown sludge.

He looked back at the data table, and continued to read through it. He started to remember why he even had this data table to begin with. It was homemade statistics. Enemies encountered, confirmed kills, shots fired, times wounded, and comrades lost under command. Of course, all of them were estimates, though times wounded probably wasn't. He looked through the statistics, and sighed, as he flipped the page, and started to draw a new one.

"Let's see if you can do better this year." He said aloud. He then heard footsteps. Heavy ones. Klaus slowly inched his hand toward the Gilded Bolter, which was on his lap. The door was kicked down, and Bluddflagg entered the room, his green skin coated with animal furs and pelts.

"Zog its cold." He said, as he opened the door some more, revealing Lofn, who was carrying a…

"Is that a tree?" He said in confusion. She nodded, and he could practically see her smile underneath the Ghost Helm, as she, along with Bluddflagg, placed the tree in the corner of the room, next to the window.

"Yep." She replied, as if to validate it even more. Klaus glanced at the pine tree, then back at Lofn, and then at Bluddflagg. Bluddflagg glanced between the two, and stifled a chuckle. Ever since their 'dinner' together, Bluddflagg had been laughing his ass off at it. He considered it to be the funniest joke he had ever heard, and it didn't help that Bluddflagg wouldn't shut up about it either.

"Can I ask why?" He asked, still confused.

"Iz a sekret." Bluddflagg retorted, doing a quoting gesture with his remaining hand. Obviously, he wasn't as excited about the so called secret as Lofn was, as she was grinning like a lunatic, and it started to worry him. He adjusted his journal, so that the others couldn't see, as he continued to sketch the data table. Bluddflagg glanced at the journal, and snatched it from Klaus's hands.

"Unhand it now, vile beast!" Klaus demanded, as he went to get it back. However, Bluddflagg pushed him slightly with his powa klaw, knocking him back into his chair.

"Settle down ya grot." He growled, his flaming eye giving him what appeared to be a death stare, before he glanced at the journal again.

"Give it back." Lofn demanded. Bluddflagg snorted, and shoved it into Lofn's hands. Klaus expected her to hand it over, immediately. But then as she looked at it some more, her face changed completely.

"Tomorrow was your Birthday?" She asked, joy creeping into her voice. Klaus rubbed his face. This was exactly what he did not want for her to find out. Dear Emperor… what had he gotten himself into?

/

Nebetaruk's systems had been slowly rebooting over the past few weeks, the explosion he had been caught in unfortunately knocked a few of his critical elements out...but now he was awake again. The ancient mechanical warlord's eyes started to glow a darker shade of green, while going over the sensor data that his body had gathered while he was incapacitated. Besides the blizzard out that would kill any organic not adapted to live in that level of cold, the only thing of note was that his Ork companion had been kidnapped by a group of undead.

Whether they were bound to the Lich King or of the Forsaken was almost inconsequential in the long run. Either way he WOULD liberate the Mek Boy, if only to repay the debt he owed him (as the Mek could have let him be destroyed in the explosion)...But first he had to find the now slumbering Flayed Ones; as while he was superior to anything he might encounter, he could still be defeated if he was overwhelmed by sheer numbers, as such his kin would be invaluable to an assault on either force. However, he knew of the danger of the Flayed Ones, and in particular, the Flayer Virus. He knew that he could not risk being infected. No! It would not come to that. If it happened, then no one would be around to stop not only him, but the C'tan. It was a very deep, and very serious risk. But one, that he must take. As soon as he was done with the Flayed Ones, he silently vowed to destroy them.

However, as he tried to rise he noticed a small obstacle to his plan… the cold of Northrend and the blizzard had frozen his joints. And not only that. His skin was coated with a semi thick layer of ice and snow. A deep mechanical growl emanated from his core as he calculated that it would take an hour for his internal gauss generators to warm up enough for him to defreeze himself and keep from freezing up again.

Despite this setback, Nebetaruk consoled himself by reminding himself that the other Necrons had been dormant for much longer and his Greenskin companion had been in captivity for longer than an hour...So in the grand scheme of things, another hour before he could enslave his kin wasn't that much of a hinderance.

An hour later he rose to his feet as his Gauss generator shattered the ice that had encased him, and made his way towards a side passage in the side of the hill. It would have seemed a random choice to an organic to go down that route...but organics, well... they lacked the eyes of a Necron, which were modified to see the invisible directions, ancient glyphs and runes that were engraved in the walls by the Necrons; and the way he was heading was to the activation chamber, to the Old Kingdom once more. They glowed softly, letting out a shimmer of green energy, that rippled across the stone walls.

However, as the Necron Lord was highly intelligent, he knew there was a chance he would not be able to instantly enslave them. As such he decided that before he tried to hunt down the Flayed Ones, that he should acquire more powerful wargear that could still have been hidden within the ancient Necron tomb. From what he recalled in his fractured memories there should at least be a Veil of Darkness (a device that would allow him to hide himself from nearly everything) and possibly, a Rod of the Covenant (which would allow him to destroy the Flayed Ones much easier when the time came). Of course, such Rods came from the Triarch Praetorians, the law keepers of Necron society. However, a permanently deactivated Triarch wouldn't be needing it anymore. And perhaps more coincidentally, as he turned a corner, a shortcut to the armory glowed softly, illuminating a shortcut through the winding tunnels. A low and menacing chuckle escaped his vocal processor, as time slipped by, like sand through his fingers. Now... he wouldn't have to waste any extra time finding any wargear he could use to improve his abilities. And soon, he would have an army of his own...

/

Mista Nailbrain woozily woke up, his head banging and screaming and cursing. He went to rub it, when he realized that his hands were bound. Then he noticed something else. He was naked. Well, partially anyways, as he still was wearing his pants, which were now notably scarred. Holes and scratches and rips were found everywhere. He would have to get new ones. But first, he had to figure out where he was. He looked around the room he was in. The stench here was awful, and it smelled like a rotten corpse down here. Small droplets of green liquid dropped from the ceiling, splattering against the old grey stone. He opened his mouth to scream, but then he noticed that it was gagged.

"Oh zmmog." Mista Nailbrain mumbled quietly, as he tried chewing on the cloth that was rammed in between his teeth. However, it didn't seem to be working. Where was he anyways?

The past few weeks had come by in a blur. Everytime he woke up, another few wacks in the back of the head knocked him out again. Apart of him wondered if skull surgery was necessary...but a larger part was reminded of the way Painboyz and Mad Doks would treat their patients, and as an Ork that freaked him out and caused him to start struggling even more.

"Don't bother. Those bonds were designed to hold Trolls and Tauren. You won't be going anywhere." A voice said. Mista Nailbrain stopped struggling, as he glanced around, his red eyes darting from corner to corner. However, it was far too dark, and the only thing that gave any light was several torches, that were placed strategically around the room. They were dim, and only produced enough light for visibility, but nothing clear. He heard footsteps. One after another. They were slow, and methodical. It was behind him too, but he couldn't physically look behind him. He only got glimpses, as the figure strided behind him. An edge of a black cloak. A sinister red glare. Soft grey skin, and ruby red lips, glistening with wetness.

Mista Nailbrain thrashed again, straining the leather and steel chains that held him down. However, it slowly dawned on him that these things weren't budging. Suddenly. He had an idea. He tried as hard as he could to reach into his pants. He had something for a situation like thi-

"We searched you from top to bottom. I am rather surprised one with a body frame as yourself kept twenty pounds of explosives like pocket change." The voice added on.

"Go zmog ymorsmelf." Mista Nailbrain mumbled, his speech slurred by the gag. Finally, the figure took several steps to his side, revealing herself. It was Sylvanas Windrunner. The Dark Lady. She looked him up and down. One of her fingers slowly reached for his chest. The elongated, silver nail, traced swirls on his scarred, bare green chest.

"Dmont even fmink about mit." He snarled. Sylvanas smiled coyly, as she yanked the gag out of his mouth. He took a greedy breath of air, before he gave her a fiery glance.

"When da Kaptin hears bout dis, he'll have yer arse on a silva platta, yoo hear me?!" He shouted in pure anger. To this, she only shook her head.

"I'm afraid an event like that will not happen. No one but me, and a select few even know where you are, my friend." She replied. Mista Nailbrain shook his head, refusing to believe her.

"Dat aint possible ya twat! Da kapn… he… he wuldnt furget bout me…" He mumbled, slowly starting to question it himself. She grinned, as she began to exploit his uncertainty.

"Yes he would… he left you and your fellows for dead. It was only a miracle that my Dark Ranger's had found you. And you were lucky too. A rather… fatal… blizzard was on its way. If you were not finished off from your wounds, then you certainly would have been exterminated by the cold." She pointed out. Then she leaned in close, only a few inches away from his face, in which she could see the emotions and thoughts dancing in her eyes. The schemes being formulated. The torture being planned. The manipulation being drawn out.

"So in a way… you owe me your life." She said, giving a small smirk. It was fake. All of it.

"I dun… I dun believe ya." Mista Nailbrain mumbled. She took a step back, clearly displeased.

"I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice. Perhaps you should see what could have been you if I didn't save you..." She said, and clapped her hands once. Two Forsaken came into the room, opening a door that was previously hidden by darkness. They dragged in something, and threw it to the floor. There were multiple pieces of… whatever… it was, and they began to roll it forward, prodding it with their shoes. Mista Nailbrain gasped, at what little of a view he had.

"Spookums…" He mumbled in horror. They wouldn't DARE defile his body with their filthy, pestilent touch. But they did. They rolled what little remained of Spookums right to the table that Mista Nailbrain had been strapped too. Now he was angry.

"YOO BASTARD! I'M GUNNA RIP YER GUTS OUT, N FEED IT TOO YA!" He screamed in anger, as he flailed at the bonds that held him down. Sylvanas clearly wasn't impressed, and merely crossed her arms.

"Tell me something. Where is the rest of your crew?" She asked. Mista Nailbrain ignored her, as he desperately tried to break free. She was quiet for a whole minute, before she shook her head.

"Clearly, you need to be taught some manners." She mumbled, before she glanced at the two Forsaken guards, who still stood at attention, their rusty swords drawn.

"Take him to the Apothecaries. Tell them they can do whatever they wish to him, as long as he stays alive, somewhat intact, and preferably not lobotomised. Bring him back here by the evening. It is after all, the eve of Winter Veil." She commanded. They obeyed, and began to push him away. It was only then that he realized something. If no one knew that he was here… then no one was coming to go get him. He realized that with his defiance, he had very well sealed his fate. He screamed in realization, only before the disgusting rag was shoved back in his mouth.

/

Bluddflagg watched with mild curiosity as the twig brewed up some sort of concoction. He was getting sleepy, and it didn't help that pitter patter of snow outside was so… well, soothing. He needed something to kill. He tried to get up from his spot on the floor, but he didn't make it that far, before he fell down again. Eh. He would do it later.

"Ah. Sloth. Quite the sin, do you not agree?" The voice asked. Bluddflagg narrowed his eyes, and refused to respond.

"Silence won't help you my friend." The voice said again.

"Piss off would ya?" He mumbled, keeping his voice soft, as the twigs instructions. Klaus was sitting in his chair, far away in the room of the hotel they had rented, who was quietly drawing.

"Hm. I think not." The voice said quietly. "Do you know what time of year it is?"

"Er… probably not."

"Of course not you half wit." It responded. Bluddflagg furrowed his eyebrows, slowly closing his Powa Klaw.

"I said. Piss. Off." Bluddflagg growled. The voice stopped harassing him for now. Finally, Lofn was done with… whatever she was making. She gave Bluddflagg a quick wink, as she walked over to Klaus. Bluddflagg suddenly smirked, a feral grin slowly spreading on his face. He just may yet win this bet against Mista Nailbrain.

"Klaus. Could you try this?" She asked. Bluddflagg grinned even more. Any second now…

Klaus put down his book, and put his writing stick back into it, as he glanced at the steaming cup in her hand.

"Why?" He asked in confusion.

"It is a seasonal drink that the locals made. I wanted to try it out, but I want to have your opinion on it." She stated. Bluddflagg began shivering in excitement. Any second now…

Klaus chuckled. "So if it tastes like grox shit, then your palette would be spared?" He retorted. Lofn shifted to the side.

"I'm sorry… scared?" She taunted. He snorted, snatching the cup out of her hand.

"I'm not scared of no damn cup, or some damn drink." He growled, as he downed it in one go. He stood up, and put the small cup in her hand.

"See? I'm not scared. Tastes like shi-"

Klaus stopped talking for a moment, and glanced at his hands, before he slumped back into his chair, his eyes completely closed. Bluddflagg snarled in anger, smashing his hand into the floor. Damn it! They were so… so close! Lofn glanced at Bluddflagg, studying him for a moment, before she grinned wildly.

"It worked. Help me get the 'boxes' in position." She said, as she quickly ran out of sight. Bluddflagg scratched his head, confused.

"Boxes? And da hell did ya doo to him?" He asked in confusion, glancing back at Klaus, who was now snoring.

"Gave him a bit of a sleeping potion!" She shouted, as she started to bring in colorfully wrapped boxes in. Ah. Those boxes. After yesterday's debut, she had dragged Bluddflagg through the snow to go shopping for… stuff. Really, all he did for her was provide transport, as he was large enough to get through the blockade of snow outside.

"Yoo drugged him?" He asked in confusion. She poked her head out, as she started to carry/levitate a box in front of the tree. "I wouldn't call it that. I would call it… adding a bit of pizazz to the mixture."

"Welp. Tell me if ya zog, cuz den I win da bet." He said loudly, as he stood up, and began to ferry the boxes, which were left outside. Lofn blushed heavily, as she stopped moving.

"It's not like that you know." She said, rather annoyed. Bluddflagg stifled a chuckle.

"Dat so? Wot about da dinna yoo two had?" He retorted. She stamped her foot in anger.

"He started it!" She protested.

"But dat didn't mean ya had to stay." He countered.

"It was a nice gesture! It would have been rude to walk out!"

"Ah, so druggin him, dat's not rood, roight?"

"It was the only way I could get these through without him knowing. He's way too much of a light sleeper. I want it to be a surprise."

"Da hell ya doin dis fur anyway?"

Lofn stopped, and took a deep breath.

"Because, Bluddflagg, 'holidays' as the locals call it, is something I have never experienced before. We don't have anything left to celebrate for, so celebrating an event that doesn't remind you of your inevitable doom is a refreshing change!" She snapped. Bluddflagg whistled.

"Hm. Wot if he doesn't wanna do it?" He asked.

"He doesn't want to do anything that doesn't involve killing, purging, or spit shining. Like you." She replied.

"So ya force dis on him?" He asked.

"Why do you care?" She retorted.

"I dun kare bout da humie. Long as he's still breathin, and in foightin cundition, den i'm an happy ork. I leave da… fondling… to you." He chuckled.

"I said, It's not like that." She growled. Bluddflagg chuckled.

"Sure sure." He giggled. They were silent for a few moments.

"Did ya get Mista Nailbrain and Spookums sumfin?"

"No…"

"Bah, nevamoind. I'll get it meself. Spookums always lookin for a bigga knife, while Mista Nailbrain luvs him some shiny bits. Bet I can find it round here.

"You're buying it. Not stealing it."

"Bah. Foine." Bluddflagg grumbled. He stopped, and wiped his brow of sweat.

"When we leavin dis damned place? I wanna kill sumfin already!" He growled.

"Soon, soon. As soon as the blizzard lets up, we head straight to the Argent Tournament."

"Tournie eh? Dats a good place to kill."

"Well, its more for Klaus. To train him, you know?"

"Wot, ya dun fink he's capable?"

"I think he is perfectly capable, but it's better to be prepared then to be sorry."

"Yeah yeah. Long as da humie can hold a choppa da roight way, he's trained enuff fer me."

"We face a whole army of undead creatures and abominations. He will need all of the training he can get."

"Speaking of which, how da hell are we gunna kill all of dem pasty gits anyways? I mean, I am a mirikal wurker, but I aint dat gud of un." Bluddflagg boasted. Lofn smiled coyly.

"Dont worry. We will win this. Reinforcements are already on the way." She stated. Bluddflagg raised an eyebrow.

"And who's dat?" Bluddflagg demanded. Lofn smiled slightly.

"Oh, merely an old 'friend' of the Ulthrans. to provide the way."

/

Ahriman watched over the mass army of undead, slowly marching and massing underneath him. He stood on an elevated balcony inside of Icecrown Citadel, looking over the horde of zombies, skeletons, abominations, and other unholy abominations that lurked about.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" Ahriman asked softly, glancing to his prized new slave. The Lich King.

The Lich King stood there silently, watching. Ahriman narrowed his eyes, as he amped up the mental domination on The Lich King. The Lich King began to twitch, shake and quiver, as it desperately tried to fight off the waves of psychic energy. Ahriman had to admit, The Lich King was a powerful psyker. Ahriman struggled to keep The Lich King under control at nearly all times, and this made him slightly paranoid. To be sure, he had taught himself the dark arts of Necromancy. Though it reeked far too much of Nurglite Magic to him, he could not deny its usefulness. He had scoured many previously abandoned battlefields, and had always found new recruits, either willing or not. The Cult of the Damned also provided a steady stream of new recruits, especially of the back breaking labor he had subjected them too. The kingdoms of mortals still stood. For now. But he had bigger problems to attend to.

Ahriman heard footsteps behind him, and he turned around to see a shivering cultist. It was an old decrepit man, with corpse white skin, covered with thin black robes, laced with bright purple fabric. He had yet to change the coat of arms from the icy hammers and skulls to the soothing sun of the Thousand Sons, or at least the mark of Tzeentch. Though he never considered himself a champion of tzeentch, or chaos in general, he found their tricks… useful.

"Master… an army belonging to Chaos threatens to march to us from Sholazar Basin." the cultist reported, his voice jittery. Stale fear reeked off of him like an awful perfume. Ahriman turned to face the wretch.

"Numbers?" Ahriman asked calmly.

"In the thousands, my lords. The daemonic scum have managed to manipulate and corrupt the local tribes of Tuskarr, Wolvar, Ice Trolls, and Gorlocs against us. Their touch has desecrated the basin, and they march to the Avalanche." The cultist reported. Ahriman grinned. The Avalanche was a long and winding path up the mountain range that separates the basin from Icecrown. It was also rather narrow. It was like they were playing into his hand...

"They march right into a choke point. Excellent." Ahriman chuckled, his unholy laughter echoing through the halls of Icecrown Citadel, getting lost in the howling blizzard. He stopped.

"And what of the Lich that was assigned to oversee the Basin? Artruis the Heartless? What did he do to stop this?" Ahriman demanded. The cultist shuffled his feet.

"Artruis was slain before word got out. If we do not stop the army of chaos now, they will be able to siege the Citadel." The cultist replied cautiously. Ahriman snorted.

"Useless scum. Find Lord Marrowgar. If you survive, tell him to take eight thousand of our undead and meet the forces of chaos at the avalanche. Tell him that he shouldn't bother returning unless the last of their cultists are slain, and the last of the daemons are ripped from this plane." Ahriman growled.

"But what of the armies of the living? They still sit on our doorstep, at the Argent Tournament.?" The cultist asked. Ahriman waved his hand.

"We will deal with them later. Now go." He commanded. The cultist nodded, as he ran as fast as he could. Ahriman sighed, as he looked back at the plain of undead below him. Yes. An army that bowed to his indomitable will, did not demand a paycheck, and smelled somewhat tolerable? Yes, this was quite the army indeed.

"Now, Lich King, where was I?" Ahriman asked, chuckling lightly. "Oh yes. Isn't the view beautiful?"

The Lich King spared him a glance full of hate and anger and rage.

"Yes. The view is lovely."

/

Klaus stirred from his slumber, rubbing his head slightly. It ached. Then, he immediately rose up, snatching his sword from its sheathe. Where was that treasonous, deceitful witch? He looked around, ready to gut that filthy, disgusting xeno, when he paused. It was obvious that no one was here. It also seemed to be morning, due to the daylight that streamed in from above. It also seemed that the blizzard had stopped, as the howling wind no longer senselessly smacked and beat the windows outside. However, that wasn't the thing he noticed. It was the tree.

Colorful decorations peppered the pine tree, from small glass balls to brightly colored ribbons made from paper and other materials. Their was a note on the tree too. Klaus glanced around, as he quickly slipped on his gasmask. Just to be sure, anyways. He grabbed the note, and unfolded it, ripping off the small little bowtie that held it together.

" _Dear Klaus._

 _Sorry for drugging you. I wanted this to be a surprise!_

 _Anyways, as you can probably see, the blizzard has let up for now, and we are now ready to travel once more. Meet us at Runeweaver Square._

 _Of course, after you open all of the gifts Me and Bluddflagg bought for you._

 _Convincing him to cooperate was hard, so please have some decency._

 _Sincerely, Lofn."_ Klaus read slowly, as he glanced down at his feet.

There were four boxes laying at his feet, each one carefully wrapped up in brightly colored paper. Klaus slowly put his sword back in his sheathe, his previous anger pushed aside. For now, anyways. He certainly wouldn't trust her with her drinks ever again. He kneeled down, picking one up.

It certainly was the largest of them all, and thus, probably was the heaviest. And has he shook it in his hand, a small pointed tip stuck out of the box. Fearing the worst, Klaus put it onto the ground. He took his power sword, and started to cut the box open from as far as he could reach. Finally, the box fell into pieces, revealing a crossbow and a dozen bolts. There was also a small piece of paper in the jumble of metal and wood, lodged between the string and the flight groove. He took it out, and looked at it. It was less of a note, and more of a poster. Klaus looked at it for a few moments, before he crumpled it up and tossed it away. This was Bluddflagg's gift for sure, and emperor knew that not even the most gifted Magos Biologis could translate THAT text. Klaus grabbed the crossbow slowly, and spent a good amount of time looking it over. The ebony wood was recently polished, and the golden trimmings around the edges of the bridle, showed that this gift certainly costed some coin. A quiver was also included, which held the bolts to the crossbow. Klaus considered thanking the greenskin, but then he immediately banished the thought. Taking this was one thing, but thanking him for it was another thing.

"Interesting how this has played out." Legion said. Klaus twitched, glancing at him from his shoulder.

"You just LOVE to sneak up on me, do you?" Klaus growled. Legion shrugged, his fiery pauldrons giving his head a quick bath of warp fire.

"Consider it a hobby while we are inactive." Legion replied. Klaus narrowed his eyes.

"Did you know about this?" He demanded.

"Yes." Legion plainly said. Klaus narrowed his eyes even more. Legion's fiery red lenses were proving difficult to read, but his voice was plain as day. He wasn't lying.

"And you saw what happened? About how they drugged me? And you didn't even bother to intervene?" He asked. Legion nodded again.

"Yes." He added on. Klaus was confused.

"Why?" He asked. Legion stood up, and began slowly walking around the room.

"Klaus, I have been watching you since we first met. I have always been there, silently observing every interaction, listening to every word, and noting every action. I have learned quite a lot about both you and your companions, only by listening and watching. I have seen their every action, and I can guess their intentions far better than you ever could." He stated, as he stopped pacing around, and slowly reached down, grabbing one of the presents. He then pushed it into Klaus's hands.

"If they were planning a mutiny or treason, I would have found out far before you ever even considered it. And as so, I was not worried about their actions. I knew that their intent was non hostile." Legion added on. Klaus glanced down at the present in his hand.

"But that does not explain why you would not even warn me about such things." Klaus retorted, though he knew that he wasn't winning this argument.

"Why should I?" Legion retorted. Klaus raised an eyebrow.

"I am your protector, yes. But, that does not mean every now and then I can sit back and watch things happen. I protect you from death. Not discomfort or awkwardness. That is not my job." Legion stated. He then took a step back. Klaus glanced down at the present in his hand, and began to open it. This one was small, roughly the size of his fist. As he ripped the wrapping apart, and slowly opened the wooden box, he found his next gift.

It was a small wooden carving of the aquila, the size of his palm. He did have to admit, they put a great amount of detail into it. He looked it over for a moment, rubbing his hand across the surface of the carving. He then shoved it into his sack.

"There's one last one." Legion stated, as he waved to the final box. It was very small as well, this time fitting directly into his palm. Klaus slowly took the wrapping paper off, and opened the box.

It was a gold and silver pendant, a charm hanging on by a small chain. The pendant itself was a gemstone, that was split into two, equal halves. One half of it was a deep sapphire blue, while the other was a light grey. It refracted the light that came through the window, making a bright spot appear right on his greatcoat, roughly where his heart was. The gemstone was held in place by a silver and gold bracket. The chain flowed through his fingers, as he tried it on. It fit his neck, eerily perfectly. Not constricting, but not loose either.

"Whose gift was this?" Klaus asked Legion, before noticing that the Legionnaire was long gone.

/

Dal'yth. Dal'yth was a Tau Sept, one of the first worlds that was claimed by the Tau Empire during the first expansion period. Dal'yth was a metropolitan station of trade and luxury, where not only Tau, but their alien allies and other species lounged in relative comfort. The perfect hiding spot for a fugitive.

Eldrad Ulthran didn't need a disguise, as simply covering his head with his ghost helm was good enough to keep suspicions off of him. He personally did not like being near the Tau. Though they held good promise, they were unbearably naive and young, to the point where it sometimes made him sick. If the eldar thought that humanity was young, the Tau did not even come close.

The busy streets of Dal'yth were full of aliens, both familiar and well, alien. He saw a wide variety of species as he walked in the shadows, keeping himself concealed. Tau, Kroot, Vespid, Humans, or as they were called, Gue'vesa, and even orks, though they were in extremely low number. Speaking of orks, he was looking for one in particular. Wanted by the Inquisition for twenty mon'keigh years, this ork was constantly on the run. And it was time Eldrad called up on a favor that he was owed.

"These Tau reek. I thought that such an advanced race would at least invest in a better smell." he mumbled to himself, as he looked at the slip of paper that was held in his hands. It was the last seen location of his target. In an abandoned drone factory, that had been given up to his target, after a certain hefty bribe. He continued to walk slowly, trying to avoid as much attention as possible. His trap was ready to be sprung.

Half an hour later, he stood outside of the door to the drone factory. It was rather isolated, and Eldrad had to take a detour in order to get to it, as several Fire Warriors had been patrolling the streets. He slowly opened the door, pushing it slowly and quietly. He could hear disgusting music deep within the factory. It sounded like metal shredding against one another, along with the sound of primitive drums slamming against each other. Eldrad was disgusted, but he put aside this disgust, as he continued to walk deeper in. He noticed a quick red glare from above him, on one of the support beams. Good. They were here.

"Oi! Ora'nesh? Dat yoo! Did ya get da parts that I wanted?" He heard someone yell. Eldrad heard footsteps come his way, and he slowly drew out his witchblade. An ork came into view, turning a corner behind a stack of metal bars, bumping right into Eldrad. The ork was dressed in a filthy uniform, similar to a mon-keigh commissar. With the peaked hat, and filthy coat and ripped and patchy pants, the ork's defining characteristic was the cyborg eye that covered the right side of his face. The red light showed brightly, cascading Eldrad in the light. The ork gasped in shock, and stumbled back, pulling out a gun. Eldrad casually swung his witchblade, slicing the gun into two molten pieces.

"NO NO, NOT YOO AGAIN!" The ork shouted in panic, drawing a knife, and throwing it at Eldrad. Eldrad lifted his hand. The air began to feel cold, as the knife levitated in the air. Slowly, it was turned to the ork, and it was thrown. The velocity of the knife lodged itself straight into the orks uniform, right above the shoulder, and pinned the ork to the wall. Desperate, he shoved one of his hands into his mouth, and whistled.

"NIBBLA! KILL DA GIT!" The ork shouted. Eldrad heard heavy footsteps, and the sound of a behemoth shrieking. One of the walls crashed, spreading concrete and other metals flying.

The Hive tyrant let out a screech, a wailing cacophony that probably could be heard for miles. It's malevolent glare settled on Eldrad. But he had planned for this.

"Come now Unkle. No need for such violence." Eldrad said calmly, as he waved his hand, revealing his trap.

Two Squadrons of Fire Dragons and Warp Spiders revealed themselves from the shadows, pointing their weapons at the Hive Tyrant. The Tyranid glanced around, sparing each eldar warrior a hateful glance.

"Now, if you were wise, I would tell your… pet to stand down. We wouldn't want any… casualties." Eldrad said calmly. Unkle spared him a hateful glance, before he whistled again. Nibbla hissed, as it slowly pranced over to his master's side, standing guard. Without a word, the aspect warriors gathered at Eldrad's side, keeping their weapons trained on the beast.

"Unkle, I believe it is time that you pay up your past dues. The favor that you owe me. I am calling it in." Eldrad stated. Unkle snarled, ripping the knife out from his coat.

"I don't owe ya shit." Unkle growled. Eldrad sighed.

"Very well then. I may as well kill your beast, and bring you into the Inquisition. They would love to get to you and your secrets. Won't they?" Eldrad threatened. The ork was silent for a full minute, as they had a contest of willpower. Finally, the ork gave in.

"Foine… wot do ya want?" He mumbled, defeated. Eldrad smiled underneath his mask.

"I require a warhost sent to a dimension, that you have visited before. The one where you sent my… 'granddaughter' to." Eldrad stated. Unkle opened his eyes wide in shock.

"A warhost? Loike an army? Do ya know how much material dats gunna need?" Unkle gasped. Eldrad snorted.

"Yes… material. It shall all be accounted for. I need it done, as fast as possible. And don't even consider running. For if you do, I shall find you, and hunt you down myself." Eldrad growled. "Do we have a deal?" Eldrad asked, as he stuck out his hand. Unkle spat in his own hand, and rubbed it in well, before he shook it.

"Foine. But I aint doin anyfing fer ya. Ever again." He growled. Eldrad chuckled.

"We will see. We will see."


	55. Chapter 55: Unexpected

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here

Sorry I couldn't get a chapter out.

Writers Block.

Anyways, I think some of you guys will be happy with this one... if you know what I mean **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

Klaus cautiously looked around. He did have to admit, the scenery here was… odd. They were walking through a forest, that much was clear. What wasn't exactly clear, was the materials said forest was made of. Each tree was not only petrified, but also crystallized. The bark was a shiny purple, and felt slightly waxy to the touch. Not only that, but the woods were dead quiet. There was no sound, except for the shifting of armor, footsteps, both heavy and light, and breathing, whether from the rasping wheeze from his gasmask to the massive gulps of air from Bluddflagg. But their was a sound that stood out from the rest, one that sent a chill down his skin. Singing. Though it didn't necessarily sound like singing, it sounded like someone was constantly humming, and no matter where he looked, he could still not find the source. Klaus touched one of the trees, half expecting his hand to turn into crystal themselves.

Bluddflagg suddenly reached out, and snatched one of the small crystalline trees. He ripped it from the ground, sending shards of violet jewels scattering across the earth.

"What the hell are you doing?" Klaus demanded. Bluddflagg shoved the ripped trunk of the tree into his mouth, and chewed on it for a bit.

"Hm. Sweet." Bluddflagg merely said, as he continued to munch on the tree. Klaus glanced at Lofn, who was simply ignoring the greenskin. Klaus sighed, rubbing his face.

"Damn beast, spit that out NOW. You don't know if it's poison or not." Klaus growled. Bluddflagg spared him a glance with his fiery green eye, which now burned in intensity.

"Well, Humie, why don't we do sum problem solvin?" Bluddflagg asked, as he took out what was left of the tree from his wet maw, and shook it of saliva. It splattered all over Klaus, only angering him even more.

"If dis stikk is poisonous, den I wuld have been ded by now, roight?" He declared. His voice was full of arrogance.

"It could be a slow poison. Take its time. I know I would." Klaus retorted. Bluddflagg sighed, as he snapped off a piece of the tree and threw it. Klaus caught it with both of his hands, the shard roughly the size of his fist.

"Try it." Bluddflagg suggested.

"No." Klaus snarled, throwing it down to the ground. Bluddflagg snorted.

"Bah. Posh humie." Bluddflagg chuckled, as he sucked on the tree again.

"I can't fix you." Klaus mumbled, rubbing his face. Bluddflagg chuckled.

"Since when did ya start?" He retorted.

"Shut up, both of you." Lofn snarled from several feet away. The two turned to face her, though not before sparing each other a stare of content. She was still facing away from them, holding several glowing stones in her hands. The runes. How he had nearly forgotten. Klaus knew this could take a minute or two. He went over to a rock and sat down, and took out his journal. He clicked his only pen (as he had lost his pencil) and began to sketch the scenery. If anything, he could possibly be done by the time she was finished. Bluddflagg continued to suck on the tree like a lollipop. He honestly couldn't stand that vile greenskin. Spookums at least kept to himself, and Mista Nailbrain was just obnoxious, as whenever he was around, Klaus kept a watchful eye over his wargear, knowing the full tendencies of Meks and their looting. But Bluddflagg, was a whole different story.

He was the living incarnation of annoying, cruel, distrustful. He also was the most petty xeno he had ever met (Which in reality, didn't really mean much.) And he so dearly wished for this 'quest' to be over, so he could put a full clip of bolter shells right in his disgusting, sweaty, and putrid head. Bluddflagg seemed to have read his mind, as he caught a quick glance of his fiery green eye looking in his direction, and a smirk appearing on the greenskins lip, though his metal jaw obscured it partially.

He still wondered how the hell Bluddflagg even got his new 'eye' in the first place. Though Lofn did mention it was somewhat magical, there was still no explanation of why it was there in the first place, and in addition, how the hell he even got it. It was clear that Bluddflagg could see, as for the whole week that Klaus had seen him for, it was often to see the warboss cursing a storm, as he stubbed his toes in a variety of places. Tables, Benches, Trees, Pets…

He stopped thinking for a moment, as he rubbed his eyes, before he realized that he still had his gasmask on. He felt tired, and constantly felt his eyelids droop every now and then. He hadn't slept in two days, as ever since he had gotten even near this place, he constantly felt that something was watching him.

"We shuld set up a foire, yoo know?" Bluddflagg asked, as he finally finished sucking on the tree, and threw it like a javelin as far as he could. Klaus could hear the distant sound of it shattering.

"I disagree. We should keep moving. The second we get out of this place, the better." Klaus replied.

"We are all tired. I think we can afford one night of rest." Lofn replied. Bluddflagg gave him a look of satisfaction, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Yoo herd da twig. Get a foire goin." He ordered. Klaus snorted.

"Oh yes Bluddflagg, our most wisest and exalted leader, allow me to make a fire… WHEN THERE ISN'T ANY FRAKKIN WOOD!"

/

Torches passed by. Everything was still blurry. He couldn't think straight. He went to rub his eyes, but he couldn't move his hands. In fact, he couldn't move. Period. He could hear wheels move slowly. The city itself felt like it was rumbling. Like it was moving. Or was it just him? He couldn't really remember.

Mista Nailbrain groaned softly, trying to get off of the slow cart that wheeled him away. However, he was still restrained, and he still couldn't move. The cart slowed down, as they came across a grand wooden door. The cart stopped moving, and Mista Nailbrain heard footsteps. He groggily looked in the direction of the sound. He heard a gate being open, and the Apothecary grabbed him by the shoulders, smiling coyly.

"Our session was most enjoyable." The apothecary grinned, her stretched and withered skin moving back as she smiled, revealing decrepit yellow teeth and rotting muscles and skin where the cheeks used to be. Then, she lowered herself down, and planted a vile, and disgusting kiss right on Mista Nailbrains lips. It was more of a pecker if anything, but Mista Nailbrain felt like there were maggots crawling on his lips, and he opened his mouth in pain and discomfort, letting out a soft moan.

"I do hope we can have another go, don't you think?" The Apothecary grinned wildly, before chuckling at her own joke. She then got behind Mista Nailbrain, and continued to push him into the Throne Room. The rickety wheels slapped and clapped against themselves and the floor, making the ride rather bumpy. Finally, the cart stopped again. The Apothecary started to walk around the cart, loosening each bond, bit by bit. Finally, he was released. Immediately, two heavily armed guards came to his side, and slowly lifted him up. They struggled to carry him, as they quickly set him down in a rather lavish chair. However, Mista Nailbrain didn't even react. He was far too exhausted and wracked with pain to even move, let alone talk.

"You may leave now, Apothecary. I assure you, if he does not speak, I will make sure that you get some more time with him." A voice said. The Apothecary nodded, and blew a little kiss to the Ork, as she left. After a few seconds, Mista Nailbrain heard a door close. The two Royal Guards stood right beside him, their black and pointed scimitars at the ready.

"You know, it was rather difficult to schedule this meeting." Sylvanas said quietly. Mista Nailbrain did not respond, though he did put quite a lot of what little energy remained in his system, to at least give her eye contact. She sat across a somewhat large table, that was completely covered with food, though some of it looked less appetizing than others.

"I had to lie, and manage a hunting party to keep the occupying orc's from even knowing you were here. I also had to clear up a private chamber of mine just so we could discipline you some more." She added on, as she glanced back at the ork. She waved at the banquet in front of her.

"I decided, due to my legendary hospitality, that you deserve something to eat. After all, you haven't eaten in weeks. And you need to keep your strength up, my dear." She said, almost mockingly. Mista Nailbrain coughed a fat glob of red mucus. It landed straight on the tablecloth, staining the grey fabric with a spot of red.

"No? Do you not appreciate my gift?" She asked, as she slowly rose up, slowly walking her way over.

"All of those cuts… all of those scars… all of those holes. None of them were necessary you know. If only, you told me what I wanted to know." She growled, as she slowly picked up her pace.

"But you simply refuse. And now, I will ask you one last time." She growled, as she finally came face to face with him. She slowly pulled out a menacing Black Arrow, slowly rubbing one of her fingers around the twisted and barbed arrow head. She then put the Black Arrow right to Mista Nailbrains remaining eye, and slowly began to create cuts all around it.

"Where. Are. They?" She demanded. Mista Nailbrain let out a growl, and then spat right in her eye. She growled, rubbing the yellow and red mucus out of her blood red eyes.

"Dun… dun worry… Dat wuz doin yoo a favor…" He taunted. Sylvanas spared him a fiery glance, before she turned away, putting the arrow back into her quiver.

"Take him away." Sylvanas snapped. The Royal Guard were happy to oblige, as they snatched the greenskin by the chest, yanking him out of the plush chair, and started to drag him away.

"Wait! Wait! I'll… I'll talk." He shouted weakly. Sylvanas smiled mentally, as she slowly came forward. The Royal Guard dropped the greenskin, as he collapsed onto the floor, coughing.

"Dere… dere in Norffrend. Dey wuz… headin to…" He mumbled, coughing heavily. She leaned in closer.

"Go on…" She mumbled. Closer.

"Dey goin to…"

"Say it…" She whispered, as her ear was right in front of his mouth.

"Da Tournie." He spat out in pain and exasperation. She regained her posture, standing up.

"See? That wasn't so hard, now was it?" She asked. He did not respond, but the defeated look in his eyes told her everything.

"Take him to the slave pits. And get Clea Deathstrider here. Now. She has her targets to hunt down."

/

Bluddflagg groaned softly, clutching his chest with one palm. Klaus growled, looking down at the greenskin. He had been making these pathetic mewlings for nearly an hour now, and it was impossible to sleep while he was doing it.

"Bluddflagg. Shut up, i'm trying to sleep." Klaus growled, as he shifted slightly on his 'bed' which was really on a wide branch of a crystalline tree. He forced his eyelids shut, and tried to put himself to sleep. Bluddflagg tried to keep his voice down, but it was like he felt daggers were digging into his chest.

"Zoggin hell, dat hurts." He mumbled to himself. Klaus gritted his teeth. He absolutely hated Bluddflagg. He would have taken the Necron any day of the week at this point.

"Bluddflagg, is there something wrong?" Lofn asked sincerely, as she got up from the ground, stretching her back.

"Don't speak to the greenskin Lofn. He's trying to keep us up on purpose." Klaus muttered. Bluddflagg felt something rise in his throat, and suddenly puked. Translucent fluid poured out of his mouth, splattering the ground. Lofn recoiled instantly, while Klaus snorted in surprise.

"Do you have to make a mess?" Klaus asked, giggling at his own comment. Bluddflagg would have thrown an insult about how his entire career had turned into a mess, before Bluddflagg collapsed onto his knees, continuing to puke all over the ground. Now the liquid was starting to turn red. It was his own blood.

"Klaus! Now is not the time for jokes! He's clearly hurt!" Lofn shouted in distress, coming to Bluddflagg's side. Bluddflagg stopped puking, wiping his gob of blood and other fluids. He slowly rose himself up, wobbling around like a drunk.

"Ooohhhh, dat hurts." He mumbled. Klaus sighed, as he slowly climbed down the crystalline tree. He remembered to take a piece of the crystal shard, and he right did so, by ripping off a piece of crystal, and slipping it into his sack.

"I think he's sick." Lofn said, as she put one little hand right on his chest. Bluddflagg bit back a roar of agony, as he slowly stumbled forward.

"No shit he's sick. We need to find some shelter, and then we can treat him." Klaus suggested.

"Well, where?" Lofn snapped. They looked at each other for a moment, before back at Bluddflagg. He was still puking, though not nearly as bad. But then Klaus noticed something. He slowly walked over to Bluddflagg, and grasped his filthy tunic. He then pulled as hard as he could. The fabric began to rip and tear, and finally, a large sheet of the cloth had come off.

The cloth had quite literally been grafted into the orks skin. Bluddflagg let out a pathetic groan and fell to the ground. Dripping off of the cloth sheet was a disgusting green and red pus, that dripped like slime. Klaus discarded the sheet of cloth with disgust, as he examined the wound.

A large black blade was stuck within Bluddflagg's chest, lodged right between his ribs. The skin on his chest had started to turn a pale white, and flakes of dead skin had begun to peel off. Klaus grabbed one large curve of dead skin in particular, and slowly started peeling. Bluddflagg let out a groan of pain, as he continued to peel away the sheet of skin. When it got to the length of his arm, he yanked. Bluddflagg let out a squeal, and then started moaning again.

"Well, it certainly isn't a runny nose." Klaus mumbled, discarding the sheet of dead skin, which floated slowly in the air like paper, before it gently fell on his boot. He kicked it away quickly, as he took a few steps back, and sighed.

"What happened to him?" Lofn asked in visible concern. Klaus spared her a look. Sometimes, he never really knew what to think of her. Sure, she was an abhuman, and therefore inferior, but she was smart. Intelligent. Aware. But other times she acted like a child. A small, little child, that needed to be taught some lessons on how to survive.

"Its obvious that he's sick. I can isolate that the problem is that he has most likely been poisoned." Klaus said, as he unsheathed his power sword, and tapped gently at the black spot in his chest. "I can assume that the poison works slow, judging by the fact we have not been in combat recently for around, a month or so. So we have time to save him. Problem is, is that we lack any medical supplies. Whatsoever, I might add." He finished. Lofn gave him a raised eyebrow.

"Since when were you a doctor?" She asked. Klaus snorted.

"All Kriegsman are given basic teachings in advanced medical procedures, as it's often expected that they will be the ones performing it, and the one on the operating tables." Klaus retorted. She covered her mouth with both of her hands.

"You don't mean-"

"Yes. That is precisely what I mean." He grumbled, as he looked over Bluddflagg with an analytical eye. He never thought he would actually USE such basic training. Let alone, on a GREENSKIN.

"We must find shelter. This place is far too dangerous, and… open. And besides, I'm starting to think that these crystals… are contagious." He mumbled, as he snatched Bluddflaggs shoe, and began to pull. Of course, this did absolutely nothing. As a matter of fact, this effort seemed to be counter productive, as he had pulled a bone in his shoulder. He stopped pulling, working his shoulder quickly.

"Neither of us have the strength to pull him alone…" Klaus mumbled, before he had an idea, snapping his fingers. He then looked at his fingers in surprise.

"Huh. Never thought I could do that." He mumbled. He then took out his power sword, and quickly set to work on cutting down every crystalline tree he could. With each swing of the power sword, he cut through the crystal base of the trees, causing the purple pinkish trees to crash down to the ground. He went back to Bluddflagg's heaving body, and began to take the large amounts of chain that suspended Bluddflagg's armor to his body. The pieces of scrap metal fell to the ground, and Klaus began to wring the pieces of crystal together. Lofn simply watched with intense curiosity, as Klaus was set on his work. Finally, he took a few steps back, and wiped his hands on his uniform, spreading out purple and pink powder on his breastplate.

"Is that… is that a sled?" She asked, sounding like she wasn't trying to laugh, but was obviously failing. Klaus growled.

"Well, if you're going to be a SMART ASS, then we can leave him here and move on." He threatened. This got her to pay attention. That was nice.

"Alright, listen up then. We put his body on the sled, and we start pushing till we get downhill, which not far away from here. Once there, we should be out of the forest." He stated. Lofn raised an eyebrow.

"Since when did you become the guide?" Lofn demanded. Klaus shrugged.

"Last time I took a shit. Now come on, we have to start pushing." Klaus growled. She stifled a giggle, as the two began to push the sled underneath Bluddflagg's fat ass. He let out a grumble, as finally, the crystal sled was placed firmly underneath the ork.

"Alright. PUSH!" He shouted. They began to push as hard as they could. The crystalline surface actually made the process easy, as it simply seemed to glide over the relatively dry and smooth dirt. However, it was not that easy. Klaus's muscles ached and were wracked in pain as he continued to push the purple sled.

"Harder." He shouted from behind gritted teeth. They continued to push the sled, until it began to move by itself.

"Get on!" Lofn shouted, as she leaped onto the sled, right on Bluddflaggs neck. The ork pirate started swearing as best as he could, with the boots on his neck. He started gagging even more, when Klaus leaped straight on his gut. He let out a snarl of anger.

"I zoggin hate each and everyone un of ya!" Bluddflagg roared, as he slowly brought himself up, snatching the chains to use as a lead.

"How long is this fall?!" Lofn screamed. Klaus shrugged.

"I don't know!" He answered honestly.

"WHAT?!" Both of them screamed. Klaus sighed, as he slid behind Bluddflagg, holding onto his back as hard as humanly possible.

"Stop focusing on how long this slope is, and focus on piloting this damn thing!" Klaus roared. All three of them looked forward, as the clearing they had entered fastly disappeared. Bluddflagg yanked on the chains, as he began to try and dodge each and every tree that whistled past them. They were screaming their lungs out, while Klaus desperately tried to control the situation. He quickly ducked, as a crystal branch flew over his head. Another piece of crystal flew forward, smashing right into his carapace armor. It practically disintegrated, but not before leaving a decent dent.

"In retrospect this may not have been a good idea!" Klaus shouted. Lofn let out a scream filled with anger and panic.

"I AM NEVER TRUSTING YOU AGAIN WITH SOMETHING LIKE THIS!" She screeched.

"You never would!" He shouted, as he peeked over Bluddflagg's shoulder. Their, he could see an exit from the infernal crystal forest.

"That way! Go that way!" Klaus roared. When Bluddflagg didn't hear him the first time, he climbed onto the warboss's shoulders, and stuck his fingers softly into Bluddflagg's eyes. He let out a roar of pain, as Klaus steered Bluddflagg, and therefore the sled, into the direction he wanted.

"I'M GONNA ZOGGIN KILL YA!" Bluddflagg bellowed in hatred, as he began to salivate heavily, a white froth appearing on his lips.

"Feelings mutual!" Klaus shouted. Just as they seemed they would be getting out of this unscathed, a large stag gracefully hopped into their path. It quickly glanced at the sled that quickly approached it, before it was hit.

Klaus was sent flying forward from the collision, falling directly into a small creek. His entire uniform was soaked in less then a second, his head going entirely under. Klaus held his breath, as he slowly pushed himself up to the surface. Finally, he broke the surface of the creek, gasping. He slowly edged himself toward the bank of the creek, and started to pull himself out. He spat out a fat globule of water, only to realise that it merely hit the inside of his gasmask.

"Everyone alive?" Klaus demanded. Bluddflagg let out a groan a dozen feet away, his entire body covered in shattered crystal, as well as bits of deer, here and there. But Lofn was nowhere to be seen.

"Emperor damn it." He grumbled. He stumbled around the crash site, looking for her. He soon found her. Unconscious it seemed. He slowly approached, and grasped her hand. He slipped off his soaking wet glove, and felt her pulse. Their was none. Klaus's eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh god emperor." He mumbled quietly, as he quickly reached for her helmet, fumbling with it. It was infuriatingly difficult to take off, and he even wondered if taking it out from the outside was possible. However, he seemed to have gotten lucky, as the Ghost Helm let out a little hiss of air, before it slid off. Klaus took it off and rolled it away. It was possible to restart her heart, but that was crossing a blood soaked line.

"What do I do?" He asked himself quietly. Suddenly, two little figures appeared on his shoulders, in a small puff of smoke. One was a standard Death Korps Grenadier, while the other was dressed as an ecclesiarchy priest, with the white robes, and the silly hat. They were both wearing standard issue gas masks.

"The hell?" He mumbled to himself. The two figures glanced at each other, and sighed.

"Listen. We are your conscious, which is split into two parts." The Grenadier said. Klaus raised an eyebrow. Perhaps he really was delving into insanity.

"And this helps me because?" Klaus demanded.

"Because you need to save her right now." Priest Klaus stated.

"Oh no you don't. Leave her." Grenadier Klaus retorted. Klaus sighed. Great, as if this was going to help him.

"Listen. Like it or not, we need her. She is the only one who knows where to go." Priest Klaus said calmly. Grenadier Klaus snorted.

"As if. Think of all of the times that she stole from you. Taunted you. Teased you. Embarrassed you. Cooperating with her was bad enough, saving her life is another. Leave her body to rot, and head to the Tournament grounds yourself!" Grenadier Klaus stated. He then started to climb up, until he was right in Klaus's ear, and began to whisper.

"You don't need her. She's just DEAD WEIGHT." He whispered.

"Don't listen to him. She may not be human, but leave her to die and you will be no better than the scum you are trained to kill." Priest Klaus shouted, who was currently pacing around on his shoulder.

"Shut up boner hat." Grenadier Klaus snorted.

"Vaping loser." Priest Klaus retorted. Klaus shook his head, looking back at his shoulders. Both of them were gone. He sighed. Dear emperor, he was going to hate himself for this. He formed the sign of the aquilia over his chest.

"Emperor, have mercy on my soul." He whispered, as he took off his gasmask, and helmet, putting it to the side, as he began to perform Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation. CPR for short. He let out a quick and tiny prayer to the emperor, begging for forgiveness, as he closed his eyes, and placed his lips firmly on hers. A wildfire of thoughts erupted, like a tank of promethium that had gotten too close to a candle. When they taught him this back in the academy, he never thought he would actually use it. Let alone, on someone like her.

"Dear emperor." He said, as he lifted his head, and began to pump on her chest. It felt rather… awkward… touching her like this. Not only awkward, but downright humiliating. If Bluddflagg was watching, Klaus would probably have been ridiculed for his entire life. He lowered his ear to her chest. Nothing. He adjusted himself so that he was sitting on her legs, and began to curse up a storm.

"DAMN YOU LOFN! YOU ARE NOT LEAVING ME WITH THAT JOKE OF AN ORK!" Klaus roared in anger, as he began to repeat the process again. He lowered down, and put his lips firmly onto hers again, when suddenly hands shot up, forcing his head downward. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, as by far the most pleasant sensation he had ever felt exploded on his lips. Words could not simply describe such a sensation, and Klaus was completely shocked by it. He weakly tried to fight against it, to pull back, but he simply gave in. Finally, she stopped, and Klaus pulled away, the hands that held him now free.

"Thanks." She breathed, smilingly slightly, moving a strand of hair away from her face. Klaus didn't reply. He couldnt.

"Huh. Didn't expect that to happen." Priest Klaus mumbled. Meanwhile, Grenadier Klaus was beating Klaus in the head with a chair. Strangely, it didn't even hurt.

"DAMN YOU! DO NOT GIVE INTO THE INFLUENCE THAT LURKS WITHIN YOUR HEAD! SNAP OUT OF IT, SNAP OUT OF IT, SNAP OUT OF IT!" Grenadier Klaus screamed.

Klaus instead let out a long 'uhh'. Lofn giggled slightly, as she planted a kiss on his forehead. If Klaus was dumbstruck before, he might as well have been lobotomized at that point. He slowly got up, standing perfectly still.

"Thank you for saving my life." She added on, as she slowly got up, reaching for her helmet, and slipping it on, adjusting her hair so that it didn't stick out. She grabbed her force staff, which had been impaled into the ground.

"Now help me get him up. I think I know where to take him." Lofn said, pointing over to Bluddflagg. Klaus stood there, motionless.

"Frakk, I think he short circuited." Priest Klaus mumbled, poking him in the back of the head.

"WELL, THAT'S WHAT YOU FRAKKING GET!" Grenadier Klaus screamed.

/

The ship has set sail. I repeat, the ship has set sail.


	56. Chapter 56: The Avalanche (Part One)

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

Here is a new chapter.

Hope you enjoy!

Klaus sat down on the chair, and he heard the door being closed. It had been a couple of hours now, and he was still completely dumbfounded about what happened.

They had found a small abandoned cabin really in the middle of nowhere. Klaus could hear her footsteps slowly going away, as she went to the nearest settlement to get medicine and medical supplies. And he was assigned to watch Bluddflagg. This was good, because it gave him time to process what the frakk had happened in the past two hours.

Lofn had kissed him. She, had kissed him. She might as well just have taken everything he stood for, ripped it up in front of his face, and prance around him, throwing the shreds of his standards around like confetti, because that was how he felt.

Klaus was trained to terminate xenos, mutants, and heretics alike. He knew how to kill an unarmed man in hundreds of different ways, either armed or unarmed. Before today, he could probably list them off on his fingers. Only ten though, as he only had surprise surprise, ten fingers. Now, he wasn't even too sure he could think of one. In short, his mind had completely been wiped, the move entirely by itself simply surprised him to such a degree he hadn't said anything since.

Klaus was brought out of his thoughts with Bluddflagg's consistent groaning. Klaus growled, looking at the rather pathetic looking warboss. He wasn't as high and mighty as he usually acted. Klaus almost felt bad. Almost, being the key word. He glanced outside. It was beginning to snow. Hopefully, it wouldn't be bad. But with the ruthless weather in Northrend as of late, he most likely would be denied of such a request. Klaus sighed. She would only be gone for a week, he told himself. She said so herself. Klaus looked out the window, unaware of the imminent clash between an unstoppable force, and an immovable object.

/

The Avalanche. The Avalanche was a large and winding pass that connected Icecrown to Sholazar Basin. Several miles long, and filled with small and narrow passages, it would be the perfect chokepoint to destroy these invaders.

Lord Marrowgar let out an ethereal chuckle, his voice the sounds of thousands of souls all screaming and crying out in agony together. He clutched his massive war axe, Bryntroll, The Bone Arbiter. These foes were pathetic little ants, that he would crush underneath his feet. If he had feet anyways.

At his command were roughly 8000 undead warriors. From decrepit and rotting zombies, shuffling skeleton warrior, howling ghouls and lumbering abominations. There was no hope for the enemy. They would be crushed, and they would be exterminated.

So confident in his victory, Marrowgar was, was that he began to taunt the invaders. This so called, Chaos.

"YOU ARROGANT FOOLS! YOU THINK YOU CAN CHALLENGE THE LICH KING'S MIGHT? HIS RULE? YOU WILL BE SLAUGHTERED, AND YOUR CORPSES WILL SERVE US NICELY!" He roared out, his haunting and chilling voice echoing throughout the canyon. There was no response. He snorted, brandishing Bryntroll with a little twirl.

"Cowards, the lot of them." He grumbled. The ranks of the undead began to part aside, as a very important scout made his way through. The shape of a black cloud with sinister incorporeal amber eyes and talons shifted through the ranks of zombies, skeletons and ghouls.

"What do you have to report, Shade?" Marrowgar demanded, as the shade came closer, bowing its smoky head.

"My lord, the army of chaos warriors march to us. They plan to meet us in the median of the canyon." The shade reported. Marrowgar snorted.

"And what of their numbers?" Marrowgar demanded. The shade was silent for a few moments, now being the victim of a suspicious glance from Marrowgar.

"Nearly a thousand, my lord." The shade finally responded. Marrowgar let out a small chuckle, that quickly evolved into a full tirade of ghastly laughter.

"PATHETIC! The lot of them! If they are so arrogant, as to attack us when we outnumber them, eight to one! We march." Marrowgar growled. At this, the thousands of undead began to shuffle forward. The zombies shuffled and hopped, while the skeletons marched with an eerie amount of coordination. The dozens of Abominations at his command lumbered forward, gurgling with excitement. Marrowgar floated forward. He would be the first one into the orgy of slaughter. What he did not know, was the shade quickly disappearing in a flash of red fire when no one was looking. The shade appeared on a cliff hundreds of feet away, where a pathetic troll cultist waited for him.

"They have fallen for the trap. Alert Skulltaker that the enemy comes for him." Vo'ndrath growled, unraveling his disguise to reveal himself. He snatched his staff, and began to trudge through the slowly growing snow. The cultist nodded, as he quickly ran as fast as possible through the hidden passage to give him the news.

/

Skulltaker clutched his midnight black blade, his tongue dancing around and through his teeth, awaiting the smell and taste of blood being spilt. He could not wait for the sound of his sword ripping through flesh, and could not wait for the feeling of blood washing all over his robes and skin.

The army at his command was less than an army, but more like a warband. There were thousands of cultists and warriors. His black eyes scanned the warband. It was a blur really, but they all looked the same in various degrees. Those who had aligned more to Khorne were shirtless, brandishing axes, swords, and any other weapons that could cut. The marks of Khorne and Chaos Undivided were branded into their skins, warpaint of red and black splattered all over their faces and arms. They shouted war cries and prayers to the dark gods, a constant fog of their warm breath against the coolwind created an eerie fog. The sound of sticks smashing against war drums propelled most of the chaos warriors adrenaline levels to a unholy degree. Some could literally not control themselves, and began to cut slits into their bodies, lapping up their own blood like a depraved dog.

Skulltaker grinned. The slaughter would be glorious. However, what was not so glorious unfortunately, was the plan. He did not like this plan. As a matter of fact, he hated this plan as much as he hated the one who hatched it. He would be the anvil, and Vo'ndrath would command the hammer. A large flanking force that would drive the wrath of a thousand gods onto the pitiful creatures that were called the undead.

A cultist slowly approached him, shivering in fear and admiration. Skulltaker spared the cultist a glance. It was a wolvar, its fur that was once a silverish grey had turned a midnight black with splotches of mutated purple flesh splashed along.

"My most humble and magnificent lord, the time has come. The Scourge are on the move. We must see to our defences." The wolvar stated. Skulltaker pondered about this.

"VERY WELL. PREPARE THE WARRIORS. IF THEY WILL NOT KILL, THEN THEY WILL NOT EAT." Skulltaker growled. The wolvar nodded, as it quickly scurried away. Khul'tyran let out a growl from underneath him.

"PATIENT WORM. YOU WILL HAVE YOUR BLOOD SOON ENOUGH." Skulltaker roared, as he yanked on the reins, propelling Khul'tyran forward. The Juggernaut began to stalk around the front lines, eyeing up any cultist that looked especially weak for a quick snack.

"MY WARRIORS! SERVANTS OF CHAOS! HEED ME!" Skulltaker roared, his daemonic voice echoing like a cannon. The warriors of chaos all glanced at their daemonic master, who was now addressing them.

"TO US COMES THE PATHETIC SCUM THAT IS CALLED THE UNDEAD. THE SCOURGE. IF THEY ARE A SCOURGE, THEN WE WILL BE THE CURE THAT WIPES OUT THEIR PATHETIC EXISTENCE!" Skulltaker roared. A long hoot of approval came from this. Skulltaker did not usually bask in glory, but he could make a stipulation this time.

"THEIR SLAUGHTER WILL BRING FAVOR TO KHORNE, TO CHAOS! NOW PREPARE YOURSELVES BROTHERS! SHARPEN YOUR SWORDS, HONE YOUR BLADES, AND READY YOUR ARROWS, FOR THIS IS THE TIME THAT WE WILL RIP THESE SORRY EXCUSES FOR ENEMIES, LIMB, FROM, LIMB!" He shouted, as Khul'tyran rose up on two legs, letting out a bloodcurdling roar of anger, one that was followed by the thousands of warriors behind him. The undead horde was closing in. There were thousands of zombies that shuffled forward, each one looking starkly different. It would be no matter however. Skulltaker would fulfill his promise, and rip them limb from limb.

But he knew his part of the plan, as much as he hated it. He was supposed to hold. And hold, he shall. Skulltaker retreated back into the formation of warriors. Khul'tyran growled, a symbol of impatience.

"SILENCE BEAST." Skulltaker growled. He then rose his hellblade into the air, and shouted out a single command.

"PIKES!" He bellowed. The front line began to change and morph, as the front line of swords and axes retreated, while Tuskarr, Wolvar, and Ice Trolls walked forward, massive pikes in hand. Each pike was roughly from ten to fifteen feet long. The pikes were lowered, making a massive wall of pointed spear heads. They were designed to keep the enemy back. And that was exactly what they did.

A wall of flesh collided with a wall of metal. Zombies let out gurgling groans as they threw themselves onto the pikes. Disgusting black blood began to flow from their bodies, pumping all over the frostbitten soil, as the zombies groaned and gurgled. The narrow passage made it so the zombies had to come in small groups. Already, at the mouth of the passage, zombies in their hundreds clambered over each other, as they desperately tried to reach the frontline. Skulltaker could no longer resist himself.

"FOR KHORNE!" He roared, as he yanked on Khul'tyrans reins, urging the Juggernaut forward. Khul'tyran let out a bellow of anger, as the Juggernaut charged through a gap in the pike line. The warriors who saw him coming quickly moved out the way, while others who were too slow were crushed underneath. Skulls were crushed like berries, splattering the Juggernauts hooves with blood and brain matter. Skulltaker let out a roar, holding up his sword into the air, as the Juggernaut collided with the tide of zombies. Khul'tyrans red armor immediately turned a disgusting combination of blood red armor and black gore. The Juggernaut trampled zombies with its devastating charge, killing several dozen in only a few seconds. With each swing, Skulltaker cut down scores of zombies with a single blow of his hellblade. The black blade was quickly coated with gore, as with every swing of the blade, swathes of blood, limbs, and flesh were thrown into the air. The pikemen retreated, as warriors armed with axes and swords charged into the fray. The horde of zombies that had approached were quickly felled, as madness consumed the shattered and frayed minds of his minions. Khul'tyran let out a roar, as it impaled a zombie on its horn, raising it up to his master. Skulltaker stabbed the zombie repeatedly, before the Juggernaut swung its head, flinging the corpse dozens of meters away.

"CHARGE! TO SLAUGHTER!" Skulltaker roared, a bloodlust overcoming his mind.

"FOR THE DARK GODS!" His warriors replied, as hundreds of them now charged forward, snarling and howling.

/

Marrowgar watched as the scout force of zombies were quickly ripped to shreds. This was of course, expected. Their main purpose was to probe the enemies defences, and to test their strength. What was not expected, was their foolhardy charge. There were only several hundred of them charging, while the rest were fine with staying in position. So they were cowards. How quickly it would be to break them.

With a mere thought, the next wave of zombies lumbered forward. However, this wave was different. Hiding in their ranks were dozens of ghouls. While zombies were merely meatshields, the hunched, rotten corpses that were the ghouls were the shock troopers. While zombies were slow and decrepit, the ghouls were fast and fluid. Their looks betrayed their purpose.

The next wave of zombies trudged forward through the gap of the canyon. The tide of crazed lunatics collided with rotting flesh. They began to cut through the zombies with pathetic ease. These were no fear driven farmers, or determined footman. They were psychotic barbarians, and that meant they didn't think too well. Marrowgar let out an ethereal howl, a single command. Attack.

Suddenly, hundreds of Ghouls leaped out of the mob of zombies. Like frogs, the howling rotten corpses sprang out into the air, oversized razor sharp talons poised to rip limbs.

The Daemonic Commander let out a roar of anger, as he swung his flaming black blade, decapitating seven ghouls midair. Their rotten sickly heads fell to the ground, where they were destined to be trampled over by boots and feet. However, the Daemon could not stop all of them.

The Ghouls, once in the midst of their foes, were deadly and more importantly, lethal. Dangerously lethal. Their claws ripped through unprotected skin and thin robe cloaks, spilling fresh blood. Marrowgar could hear the screams of the living, as they quickly became less living, and more dead.

"LET THE BODIES HIT THE FLOOR!" He howled, cackling with laughter. He pointed his axe straight at the daemonic leader upon his hellish steed. The zombies began to mob the massive creature, trying to bring it down so that they could rip the daemon to pieces. However, it wasn't working as planned. The daemonic beast that supported its rider was far stronger than any horse. It thrashed and shook, shaking zombies and Ghouls off of the beast. Marrowgar chuckled to himself. This would be far easier than expected.

/

Skulltaker was enraged, all thought completely gone, as he single handedly held the choke point all by himself. The undead had quickly overwhelmed his warriors, while the rest were slowly advancing, disposing of any undead that he had left behind, as sloppy seconds.

He swung his sword, maiming and killing a score of undead, while Khul'tyran swung its head forward, impaling three ghouls with his horns. Skulltaker looked at the Ghouls with a quick glance, before he decapitated them all. They were rotten creatures, hunched like slaves. Their skin had rotted away in most parts, leaving a gangrenous green skeleton. The flesh that remained was sickly grey and pale white, with pieces of ripped cloth and a disgusting looking loincloth serving as armor. Their eyes were black, filled with malice and hate, and their mouths were spewing with disgusting black and green blood. Skulltaker was disgusted by these foes. They were too easy! It was time he evened the score out a bit, and made things more… entertaining.

"RELEASE THE CHAOS SPAWN!" He roared. His voice carried out throughout The Avalanche like a gunshot. He started to pull back, ripping zombies and ghouls apart with pathetic ease. He glanced behind him, and grinned wildly, as he saw the Chaos Spawn being pushed forward.

Chaos Spawn were the definition of insanity. These massive hulks of flesh and bone were once servants of the Dark Gods, who had since been blessed by Vo'ndrath and their pagan gods. Each Chaos Spawn looked wildly different, though their body shape was roughly the same. They were each around ten feet tall and bipedal. Thats where the similarities ended. One was a horrid aberration of what used to be an Ice Troll. Its head hung limply at the side of its neck, as a new pulsating organ focused as a mouth. Razor sharp teeth filled this massive maw, each teeth serrated and symmetrical, filled into dozens of rows of teeth. One of its hands was a crab like pincer, which snapped itself open and shut, while the other was a large and slimy tentacle, that dripped black slime and was really everywhere. Another had its head split into three separate sections, each with a venom coated tongue, that danced around its chin, sending its poisonous saliva everywhere. Its arms had grown out of its back, and each was a claw filled with sharp needle like spikes. The herd of chaos spawn were prodded forward by a group of cultists, that poked them out into the front lines with Pikes and Prods. They howled and snarled, as they moved around with such unpredictability that it was nearly impossible to guess where they were going to move next. But as they saw the tide of undead that was surging forward, they knew exactly where they were going to go. The pike line dissolved, as hundreds of more warriors charged forward. Skulltaker smacked Khul'tyran with the side of his blade, urging the beast to charge. The Chaos Spawn quickly catched up with their master, as they began to barrel down to the Undead Horde, and as one, they hit the line.

Dozens of zombies, skeletons, and ghouls were sent flying, as the velocity of the charge smashed into the line. Immediately, nearly one hundred of them were instantly slain, trampled under the feet of the chaos spawn or Khul'tyran. The Chaos Spawn began to thrash their way further into the lines of the undead. They swung their arms like demented children, not really caring who they hit, as long as they hit something.

One Chaos Spawn began to lap up undead into its gaping maw with its Tentacles. The Undead clawed and kicked, as they were ripped apart by the teeth in the chaos spawns gullet. Black blood flowed down the Chaos Spawn's gullet and through its non existent lips, as it ate away at the Undead, regardless of the countless cuts and slashes that slowly began to paint its exterior. The Chaos Spawn had no morale. They were Unbreakable, and they would die to the last.

The next wave of chaos warriors charged into the already dazed undead front line. More were quickly felled. Axes cut limbs. Swords decapitated heads. Spears immobilized some, for others to quickly finish off. The body count was rising quickly, and Skulltaker absolutely reveled in it. As he continued to butcher and slaughter his foes, he looked up, to see the undead lord hundreds of feet away, who was still directing his troops. The floating mass of bones and skulls was held together by necrotic energy, giving an unholy chill. He would be a worthy opponent.

Skulltaker leaped off of his steed, as he waded into combat. He would have his duel, and he would have his trophy.

/

Marrowgar watched with analytical eyes, as the undead horde clashed with the chaotic warriors. His troops were dying. Fast. Each zombie, skeleton and ghoul was like a small little flame that burned in the cold darkness. And they were being blown out at an alarming rate. Those horrid monsters were smashing through his lines. He snickered. It was time he sent out monsters of his own.

"ABOMINATIONS! FORWARD!" Marrowgar commanded.

Abominations were dozens of corpses stitched together, and given their consciousness. The lumbering bulks of flesh ran forward, tramping any zombie or skeleton stupid enough to get in the way. They waded through their own lines, eager to fight with these monsters.

"Archers!" He roared. Hundreds of Skeleton Archers all systematically reached for their quivers, pulling out rotten wooden shafts and nightmarish black arrowheads. The sound of hundreds of poorly made, or stolen bows were pulled back.

"FIRE!" Marrowgar shouted, pointing his axe at the charging reinforcements. Hundreds of arrows were released, flying over head, before they quickly began their fast descent down. Most missed their mark, as undead archers weren't exactly accurate, but some did hit their mark. They continued to fire, consecutively pumping out a volley of arrows every fifteen seconds, with machine like coordination. Marrowgar floated forward. He was tired of waiting.

As Marrowgar waded into the moshpit that was the battle line, he saw multiple duels taking place. A heavily decorated Wolvar leaping on top of an Abomination, cutting its head to utter pieces with its three mutated arms. A mob of ghouls dragging down one of the horrid creatures, ripping its tentacles and skin to utter pieces, before they began to feast on its corpse.

Finally however, Marrowgar saw the combatant he was looking for. A red skinned creature, donning a black cape that was covered with chains and skulls. It was surrounded by a ring of corpses, nearly five feet tall. Zombies that clambered over were immediately dispatched of, as the daemons blade was rhythmic with its slaughter. Marrowgar raised his axe in the air. A large formation of bone began to appear, as the tens of thousands of bones that made his physique formed together to create a massive spike, nearly ten feet in length and several feet wide. Then, he threw it. The spike ripped through the air, and collided with the ring of corpses, sending hundreds of bodies flying. Marrowgar shielded his 'eyes' as he looked back at the ring of corpses. The red skinned daemon still stood there.

"You shall die creature!" Marrowgar howled.

"FOR KHORNE! FOR CHAOS!" The daemon merely howled, as it ran forward, letting out an insidious roar. Marrowgar raised his axe, and swung it down.

/

Klaus fiddled with the crossbow, trying to figure out how to use it really. Their wasn't any instructions, and if Bluddflagg knew, then their was no point to that, because he was busy groaning and moaning on the wooden bed that he had claimed as his own. It was actually a miracle that Bluddflagg even fit into the cabin to begin with, though Klaus had to really push Bluddflagg in their. He wasn't that strong, but he was determined, if nothing else. He glanced back at the crossbow, and began trying to pull the string down. Perhaps, this was the way it was supposed to be? To be honest, he wasn't too sure if he was even doing it right. He probably looked like an idiot, but no one else was watching, so hey, there's that.

This was just a distraction. All of it was, to prevent himself from thinking about her. About Lofn. What did he do?

He had fraternized with her. Though not entirely his fault (but it could be argued so) and worst of all, he had made not only physical contact, but sexual contact. And perhaps the worst part of it? The worst part of that entire encounter? It was the reaction after. He didn't immediately eviscerate her, decapitate her, mutilate her, brutalize her, or even hurt a hair on her head at all. Instead? He somewhat enjoyed it.

This was perhaps the worst part. He knew that everyday, he strayed further and further from His majesty's light. He knew that he had to make compromises every day. He accepted that due to his situation, that it was not only possible, but absolutely necessary. Klaus knew that he was smart. Somewhat. But no amount of intelligence could possibly come up with a solution to his conundrum and problem. What to do, with her.

He had a variety of options and choices, but none gave him a true answer. He already had considered killing her, but he thought that was a bit too... much. He had already tried the silent treatment long ago, and he already knew that it didn't work. Avoiding contact was basically impossible with her. His hands were tied, and he really didn't know what to do.

She liked him. He could safely assume that. Why, was the question. He wasn't THAT good looking, in his opinion. Did he have charm? Maybe he did, but he wasn't too sure of that himself.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of footprints. Outside the cabin. Klaus glanced up. It was slowly turning dark, the only thing that really lit up the cabin was the slowly dying fire in the fireplace. Was she back already?

No, that was impossible. No way she could have gotten back from her trip to get medical supplies. He knew that she was fast, but that was just insane.

Klaus cautiously reached for his Power Sword, pulling it out of its sheathe. He got up, and slowly went to the door. His gloved hand wrapped around the doorknob, and yanked the door open. A body fell to the ground with a whump. Immediately, an awful stench erupted from the body, as it slowly pulled itself up. Klaus immediately stabbed the body in the base of the skull, and it quickly died. It was a zombie. And if their was one, then their were more.

Immediately, hands shot out from the dark, trying to reach out and grab him. Each hand was in a varying sense of decay, from those that looked somewhat human like to rotten flesh dripping like water of off gangrenous green and blue bones. Klaus slammed the door shut, crushing one of their arms.

"Frakk. Frakkfrakkfrakkfrakkfrakkfrakkfrakkfrakkfrakk!" He shouted. He snatched his chair, shoving and wedging it between the floor and the door. It wouldn't do much, but it had to do.

"Bluddflagg, wake the frakk up! We got trouble." He ordered, as he began to gather what firewood was left, and barricaded the windows, somewhat poorly. The Scourge was outside, and he was stuck with a incapacitated ork and a shitty wooden cabin as defence. A rotten hand smashed through a piece of wood. Klaus ran over to it, and cut it off clean. It fell to the ground, and a loud groan from its user was heard outside. This was not good. The wood door began to slowly rip apart, revealing open mouths filled with rotten teeth and black tongues. Klaus quickly jabbed his sword into each hole, ending their miserable lives with each stab. The Power Sword cut through their rotting flesh with absolutely pathetic ease, and even through their skulls it didn't have too much problems. The Power Field wasn't even on.

However, as he continued to try and cover the door, the barricades on the windows began to falter, revealing several more undead, desperately trying to climb through the window to get at him. Klaus glanced behind him, as he desperately tried to keep the door shut, as one of them clambered through. Its chest was heaved and caved in, its ribs sticking out of its skin. Its lower jaw had fallen off, revealing a mess flesh and blood. It slowly came forward. Klaus was stuck between a rock and a hard place. If he went to go kill the zombie, the door would collapse, and he could be overwhelmed. But if he stayed, it could would go straight for him.

The problem was then solved by a burst of gunfire. The zombie's torso was ripped to utter shreds, as the body quickly fell apart. It was like taking the tape off of a sloppy science project, and it quickly fell apart into a mess of rotten flesh and bone. Klaus glanced at Bluddflagg. His Kustom Shoota was in one hand, as he slowly lowered it. Bluddflagg let out a vile cough, as the thick cloud of cordite filled the air. His pale red eye looked at him in sadness.

"Humie, get yer arse ova ere. Dis is gunna be our last stand." He grumbled.


	57. Chapter 57: The Avalanche (Part Two)

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

Here is the second part of The Avalanche.

I did say it would be short

(To be honest, I dont know why I didnt put them together)

(Oh i know, im a greedy bitch who wants my shit to be on the top of notification lists)

(Also, steamy romantic chapter coming soon...)

Anyways, enjoy.

Vo'ndrath watched the battle from afar, silently pondering at exactly what time he should come and save U'zuhls skin. He of course despised the Bloodletter, and wanted nothing more than his demise, but he was a very, very useful pawn. Currently, he was disobeying every single order and command that he had asked for. His instructions were rather, rather simple. Stay put, and don't move. Don't move to the left, don't move to the right, up down, east, west, it really didn't matter to him. But of course, his one simple direction was to stay put. And of course, the battle hungry brute couldn't even follow that. Vo'ndrath wasn't exactly shocked, but he certainly wasn't pleased.

He surveyed over the battle from an altitude. His daemonic eyes lazily followed the battle and its events with mild interest. He watched a singular ghoul bring down nearly seven warriors by itself before it was trampled by a chaos spawn. He watched a wolvar warrior decapitate a zombie, adding to the pile of corpses the warrior stand on. He watched a chaos spawn with two heads and four arms tangle with an abomination who was armed with two massive cleavers. They wrestled each other to the floor, where they each began to savagely rip and tear at each other, the massive amounts of blood and gore spurring the khornate warriors into an absolute frenzy.

But perhaps the most interesting battle of all was smack dead in the center, where U'zuhl took on Marrowgar. The combatants were locked in combat, moving far too fast for mortals to even comprehend what was happening and who was winning. Every second, their blades connected, the massive axe smashing against the hellblade. They were both revelling in thier slaughter and glory. Marrowgar swung his axe down in a eviscerating motion, and U'zuhl dodged it. The Bloodletter did a cartwheel over to the undead's side, and slashed off one of his arms. The hellblade cut through Marrowgar's arm with ease, leaving a large slab of bones to fall off and pile onto the ground. Marrowgar let out a roar, as he swatted U'zuhl away with his hand, sending the Bloodletter flying right into an abomination, the hellblade decapitating the hulking beast.

Vo'ndrath decided he had let the Bloodletter have his fun. Now, it was his turn. He took his staff, and slammed it into the ground, signalling the ambush.

Dozens of Gorlocs came to their master's side, as their green skin now warped shades of purple and blue. One of them carried a banner that held Tzeentch's insignia.

"Ready." Vo'ndrath commanded. The Gorlocs pointed their wands and staffs at the exposed backside of the undead horde, as they were slowly trickling into the bridge of the canyon only to be slaughtered.

"Aim." He shouted, as he began to reveal the next part of his ambush. He waved his staff around, chanting slightly, as bright red portals began to open nearly a hundred yards behind the undead horde. Streams of warriors poured through, as they quickly and obediently formed into rows of five. When the last portal closed, and all of the warriors were out, Vo'ndrath gave a small smirk.

"Fire." He growled. The Gorlocs released hundreds of violent, caustic, doombolts. They swirled into the air, before they came screaming down towards their targets. Some of the undead looked up into the sky, uttering silent screams, before they simply were vaporised. The barrage of Doom Bolts completely slaughtered nearly a thousand of the undead vanguard, leaving the earth completely covered with dehydrated husks of carcasses, and bubbling purple holes of energy. They certainly noticed that.

"Charge." He shouted. The Gorloc with the banner lowered the banner, and pulled out a rotten, twisted, and sickly horn, and blew it. A unholy sound was let out of the horn, signalling the charge.

Three thousand chaos warriors stampeded forward, every one of them eager to get into the thick of it. Axes, swords, great swords and double handed axes were drawn, ready to kill, ready to slaughter, and ready to burn.

The flank of the undead desperately tried to reorganize, as hundreds of skeleton warriors prepared a shield wall. With their rotten wooden buckles and ruined and rusty steel, they could do nothing.

Vo'ndrath smirked, as the undead army was utterly ripped to shreds beneath him. There was no hope, no salvation, as the chaos flanking force utterly tore them to shreds. However, Vo'ndrath noticed something peculiar. Marrowgar let out an ethereal howl, as corpses began to float around him. Skeletons and bones were ripped out of their bodies, leaving shriveled sacks of flesh. The storm of bones floated around the creature, before it let out a roiling scream.

"BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOONNNNNNEEEEEEESTTTOOOOORRRRMMMMM!" Marrowgar roared, as the storm of bones exploded. Vo'ndrath realized what was happening, and quickly cast a spell. A red dome of daemonic and chaotic energy formed around Vo'ndrath, protecting him from the explosion. However, it was barely enough.

The massive bone storm destroyed everything. The bones were shot like shrapnel, ripping both undead and the living alike asunder. Those close to the abomination were annihilated to the point where there wasn't much, if anything left. Those farther back were relatively unscathed, but with the encroaching horde of the undead, they would quickly be overwhelmed.

Marrowgar let out a ghostly cheer, raising his massive axe into the air. Victory seemed to be his. However Vo'ndrath saw U'zuhl, slowly gathering his bearings. The daemon was still alive. Vo'ndrath shot one of his hands up, his staff flaring with blue daemonic energy. The daemon was thrown behind Marrowgar. U'zuhl took advantage of his, as the daemon raised his hellblade, and stabbed. The daemon was thrown right into the back of Marrowgar, and U'zuhl shoved his blade inside of the Bone Wraith's topmost head. The Bone Wraith let out a scream, blue energy dissipating from within. U'zuhl dragged the blade deeper and deeper down, sliding, as the hellblade cut through the bone with pathetic ease. Marrowgar's massive axe fell down to the ground with a massive clink, and then the Bone Wraith dissipated. It fell into a massive pile of bones and skulls, one at the top still leaving a trace of necrotic energy. The bloodletter snatched his skull, and held it into the air. Red flame began to erupt around his hand, as the daemon chanted to Khorne. A trophy, for his dark master.

/

Klaus and Bluddflagg were in a very sticky predicament, as they desperately tried to hold off the horde of undead. They had breached the door and the two windows of the cabin, and were swarming in. Luckily, they were too stupid to go one at a time, so they were all pressed against each other to try and get a way into the cabin.

Klaus swiped his power sword with one hand, decapitating a rotting zombie, while he grabbed another one by the neck, and smashed its head against the wall. The zombie let out a howl, as it tried to turn its head into a position where it could try and bite his wrist. He wrapped his elbow against its neck, and then snapped it. A sickening crack came from the rotting creature, as it fell to its knees. Klaus gave it a quick kick, knocking the zombie down.

Bluddflagg was firing with his kustom shoota in short bursts, trying to preserve as much ammunition as humanly possible. Every burst hit something, whether it was the wall or the undead. Bluddflagg pressed the trigger again, releasing a thick cloud of cordite and smoke. Several crude bullet shells fell to the ground, as a couple of zombies were sent sprawling to the ground, one no longer having the upper part of their head, while the other was pinned to the ground, both of its legs snapping off at the knees. Klaus prepared his prosthetic, and put all of his strength into this one kick, as the zombie began to crawl towards him, maw wide, showing brown rotten teeth. The front part of its head caved in with the power of the kick, making it a slew of rotten flesh and mush. However, Klaus wasn't prepared for another attacker.

A zombie tackled Klaus to the ground. Klaus's head was smashed against the wooden floorboards, an action that sent his power sword skittering out of his grasp. Klaus gritted his teeth, as he tried to push the zombie off of him, jamming his thumb into its eye socket. Mucus and blood poured down from his thumb onto his uniform, as the zombie desperately tried to rip into Klaus's neck. With him out of the equation, more and more of the undead were starting to get their way in. He had to get rid of this one if he was to survive. He reached out with his other hand, trying to get a grip on the power sword. His fingers barely touched the pommel. It was too far out of reach.

A bullet ripped into the air, slamming right into the zombies skull. Bits of brain exploded out of its rotten and gangrenous head. The zombie collapsed on Klaus, spilling black blood all over his gasmask and lenses.

"Uggghhhh…" Klaus groaned, wiping his gasmask clean of blood. That shit was going to stink. Badly. He grabbed his power sword, holding it in a guard stance.

"Reloadin." Bluddflagg wheezed, shooting out an empty sickle clip. Now it was Klaus's turn to shine. Seven undead came forward, groaning and moaning. Klaus clenched the power sword tight. Now, he proved his skill. Now, he proved his faith.

The grenadier charged forward, swinging his sword down. The blue energy field crackled and sparked, as the sword sliced through rotten skin and frail bone. Klaus kept dragging it down with relative ease, until the sword released itself right in the nether region. He yanked it back, not having the time to watch the body fall into two equal halves. He unleashed a devastating uppercut, that did absolutely nothing but make a zombie stagger. The decrepit woman let a groan of pain, as it took a couple of steps back. Klaus ran over, doing a quick slash underneath the zombies arm, making a deep gash in the zombies midsection. It fell to its knees, trying to shove the organs back into its body. Klaus didn't let it finish the task, as he drove it right into the back of its skull. He twisted it for good measure, and yanked it out. However, he had wasted too much time, as several zombies got into his guard.

One grabbed onto his arm, and bit down. His greatcoat was thick enough to prevent those rotting and decrepit teeth from getting any further, and he gave a devastating headbut, caving its skull in. Another tried to disarm him, trying to wrench the powersword out of his grasp. He kicked its knee as hard as he could with his prosthetic, breaking it. The leg bent inwards to itself, and the zombie collapsed. Klaus stomped on its head, crushing it like a berry. Bluddflagg got up, smashing his hand against the wall, crushing a zombie that was in his hands.

"I'M SICK OF DIS SHIT!" Bluddflagg roared, as he slowly got up, his massive powa klaw trying to stabilize his balance. Klaus paid no attention to the warboss, as he slit a zombie's throat, and pushed its body back into the mob of zombies forming at the window. Bluddflagg grabbed the bed that he was laying on, and charged right into the window, shoving it into the mass of flesh. Blood splurted out like a volcano, as Bluddflagg shoved the bed into the window some more, lodging it inside. Klaus realized what he was doing, as he lobotomized a crawling zombie with a single stab. He was trying to barricade the windows. Klaus ran over, pushing the bed with the greenskin, trying to keep it lodged within.

Bluddflagg was mess of smells. Even through his gasmask, he could smell a disgusting mixture of sweat, blood, and other bodily fluids (no not that you fucking perv)

However, Klaus realized their efforts would be for nothing, as the front door was smashed partially in.

"Well, this looks like the end." Klaus shouted, as he pulled out his bolter, and began to open fire at the door. He kept it at semi auto, not yet falling into desperation.

"Yeah humie, looks loike it." Bluddflagg grumbled, a hand ripping a hole in the fabric and springs. Bluddflagg bit the hand off and spit it out, sticking his tongue out.

"Dats disgustin!" He grumbled, shoving the bed back into the window some more.

"Even before death you act like a retard." Klaus smirked.

"Shaddap." Bluddflagg growled. Finally, the door was ripped open, revealing... nothing. Klaus paused. That didn't make any sense. They were just there.

Bluddflagg backed up, letting the bed fall to the ground.

"Are dose horsies?" Bluddflagg asked. Just as Klaus was about to say something, he heard a familiar voice.

"Boys, i'm home!" Lofn called from outside. Klaus sighed. For once, perhaps the only time in his life so far, he was happy to see someone.


	58. Chapter 58: Valentines Day Special

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

Here is the Valentines Day special.

Late I know, but whatever.

Enjoy.

As Klaus was playing a fun game of operation on a screaming warboss, while a group of Argent Crusader desperately tried to hold the ork down, he was having a mental battle in his head. Well, he wasn't having it, but unfortunately, was a forced spectator.

Grenadier Klaus and Priest Klaus were having a massive argument on his shoulders, while Klaus was busy slicing open the greenskins tunic, looking at the site of injury.

"I'm just saying, it's worth investigating." Priest Klaus said, crossing his arms. Meanwhile, Grenadier Klaus was screeching like a mentally damaged child.

"No! No no no no nonononoononnononoononoononoonononoonnonono! That is NOT what we want to do! We shouldn't even be discussing this in the first place!" Grenadier Klaus screeched. Grenadier Klaus slid down from his shoulders, landing right on one of Klaus's hands, the one that was prying open the wound in Bluddflagg's chest.

"Back me up here, don't listen to that… that… THING! We are not even considering spending an evening with… HER." Grenadier Klaus roared, pointing right at Priest Klaus, who was still sitting pretty on his shoulder.

"It's not part of you. I don't know what the hell that thing is, or where it came from, but you need to listen to me, right here and right now." Grenadier Klaus barked, looking Klaus right in the eyes.

"Kind of busy here." Klaus mentally mumbled, as he was given a pair of prongs, as tweezers were fall too small to get any grip. Grenadier Klaus was about to open the floodgates, when he was interrupted.

"You are overreacting." Priest Klaus said accusingly, sliding down and landing on the greenskins heaving chest. Yelling and screaming really did a work on the ork, and it was only because he was in poor health that he couldn't break the grip of eight men on him.

"OVERREACTING? You don't belong here!" Grenadier Klaus shouted, going right up to his other subconscious, until they were centimeters away from each other. Which in retrospect, considering their size, looked like quite a distance.

"Just ignore her. We've done it before." Grenadier Klaus sighed, looking back up at Klaus. Klaus merely spared his subconscious a glance, as he began to force the prongs into the hole he had created.

"We've already tried that, and we all know how THAT went." Priest Klaus said firmly.

"I have to give it to him, he's right." Klaus admitted. Grenadier Klaus stormed about, stamping his feet like a child.

"Well, it's far frakking better than what HE'S suggesting!" Grenadier Klaus screamed, pointing right at Priest Klaus. Klaus gave him a glare.

"And that is?" Klaus demanded. Priest Klaus sighed.

"I say, we should investigate how far this relationship has gone, and whether it can be stopped or not." He said. Klaus raised an eyebrow.

"So you are suggesting I… take her out on a date?" Klaus asked. Priest Klaus let out an 'ehh' noise.

"Less of a date, more of a trap. We lure her into what appears to be a date, say, a dinner. Then, we begin to probe her of information, and try to locate the origin of her attachment to us. If we can identify the source, we could perhaps either end it, or find a way to avoid it entirely." Priest Klaus explained.

"NOPE! DON'T EVEN FRAKKING THINK ABOUT IT!" Grenadier Klaus screamed, as he began to climb up Klaus's bloody greatcoat, climbing and grappling all the way right up to his air filter, and poked him right in the eye lense.

"We've crossed far too many lines. Not killing her was one thing. Tolerating her presence was one thing. Hell! Even considering her LIKEABLE was one thing. But not only fraternizing with her, and engaging in a ROMANTIC relationship is another!" Grenadier Klaus screamed. Klaus batted Grenadier Klaus away so he could get a better view of what he was doing. The prongs had now clenched the black shard, and he slowly began to pull it out. Bluddflagg let out an unholy roar, as he desperately tried to fight the men pushing him down.

"It won't be romantic. It will be an interrogation, in disguise of a date." Priest Klaus said, correcting him.

"Yeah, you should give her a gift. Take a frag grenade, pull the pin, and bolt." Grenadier Klaus spat. They both looked at Klaus expectantly. Klaus bit his tongue, as he was now halfway through with extracting the shard.

"I suppose I will do it." Klaus grumbled. Priest Klaus nodded his head, while Grenadier Klaus let out a scream of unholy rage, as he began violently punching his finger.

"DAMN IT! DON'T GIVE IN TO THAT THING! YOU ARE A SON OF KRIEG! NOT AN WITCH'S PLAYTHING!" Grenadier Klaus screamed in anger, as he violently continued to pummel Klaus's pinky, before he stopped, huffing from fatigue.

"I am in complete control of myself. It is YOU who is acting out of control." Klaus said firmly. Priest Klaus shuffled awkwardly, while Grenadier Klaus gave him a cold stare. He went over, and snatched Priest Klaus by the collar of his white robes, yanking him upwards.

"I swear to the god emperor, I will find where you are coming from, and I will destroy you, you little shit. Prepare for a wave of holy righteousness and fury you disgusting roach." Grenadier Klaus spat in rage, as he began to violently shake Priest Klaus, choking him.

"Stop it. Both of you." Klaus grumbled, wiping away a splatter of blood that got him in the eye lense. He was almost done pulling it out. It was nearly six inches in length too. Grenadier Klaus let out a final curse word, as he dropped Priest Klaus, and began storming around, waving his fist into the air.

"Don't worry Klaus. I'm going to get rid of this… this THING. And it will be me, that reclaims control of our mind and conscious." Grenadier Klaus proclaimed, giving Priest Klaus a death stare.

"As if." Priest Klaus snorted. They both disappeared with a puff of smoke. With one final pull, Klaus yanked out the shard in a spurt of blood. He tossed it aside, as he got out his needle and thread. Time to seal it shut.

/

It was two days later then, when they arrived at the keep. The Argent Vanguard, as they were called. Klaus was quickly disappointed to find out that the Argent Tournament was still a good walk away. Not only was it far, but the path was full of undead fortifications and structures and whatnot. So his journey was close to finally ending, but he still had a few more steps to take.

The keep itself was massive. It was like a fortress. Well...it was a castle, but the point was that it was heavily fortified. A stronghold lodged right in the center of undead territory. And their was a price to pay for visiting. Two really. Well, actually three.

One was the amount of attention he was getting. Unwanted attention. Most of it was given in passive stares, while others had a more hostile hint to it, and others… well others weren't directed at him, but rather at Lofn, who stood right next to him as they unpacked. Her face was revealed for all to see, human and xeno alike. Klaus could spot a few rather sinister glares she was earning, one's that for some reason, triggered a subtle reaction, one that Klaus did not even notice at first. Klaus gave them death stares worthy of legend, making some of them back down like cowards. Anger permeated from him like radiation, something that many could feel. Lofn gave him a curious look, when Klaus paused. Did he… protect her? Klaus thought about it for a few moments, before he shrugged mentally. No harm in it.

Most of the Argent Crusaders were human, which made Klaus slightly happy. They were all dressed the same. With black and white overlapping armor, and a white tabard that ran down from their chest to their legs, a blazing sun emblem in the center of their breastplate, a black cross developing out of it. It reminded him somewhat of the Black Templars.

The second price was protection. It was flat out and center. Just a few minutes ago, a crusader had alerted them of such a price, since attacks here were apparently common. Klaus could see why. Perhaps if they had barbed wire, land mines, trenches, and machine gun nests instead of stone walls and oil pots, they could defend it somewhat better.

And the third was on Bluddflagg. Klaus didn't pay much to the ork, but he looked far healthier than he did a couple of days ago. His skin was green again, though it appeared to be a shade darker than before. This wasn't the first time that Bluddflagg was a center of attention. He was huge in comparison to anyone around him. His flaming green eye gave Klaus a stare, and then awkwardly shuffled a bit.

"Err, listen Humie. I guess… I guess I owe ya, fur yer… operashun." Bluddflagg said quietly. Klaus smirked.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you." Klaus chuckled. Bluddflagg furrowed his eyebrows.

"I said, I owe ya." Bluddflagg growled. Klaus put a hand to his ear, moving slightly closer.

"One more time?" Klaus asked. Bluddflagg let out a snort, and whacked Klaus lightly with his hand, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Don't botha being cheeky." Bluddflagg growled. Klaus pulled himself up, rubbing his head. He kinda deserved that, but that didn't stop him from being petty himself. He walked past Bluddflagg and did a quick swipe with his power sword, cutting Bluddflagg's belt. The result being Bluddflagg's pants quickly falling. Bluddflagg looked down in surprise, pulling it back up and tried fixing it back onto his waist. Klaus didn't pay the greenskin much attention, as he walked back over to Lofn. She was currently sifting through her bag, looking for something. She paused, looking up at him. Klaus sighed, swallowing down his pride. This was going to be hard.

"Listen…" He mumbled, slowly scratching his head. She stood up, giving him a fair look. She had become quite adept at reading his expressions from underneath his mask. A talent that she had picked up, no doubt.

"So, in spite of uh… recent events… I propose a uh… erm…" Klaus mumbled. The next thirty seconds were filled with awkward and embarrassing mumbling, as Klaus tried to spit out the word 'Date'. For some reason, he couldn't do it. He said every synonym that related to it. Appointment, social event, visit, meeting, interview, rendezvous, tryst. But not the one he wanted to say. Lofn smiled slightly, crossing her arms, as he bumbled like an idiot. His cheeks were blood red, and he was sweating profusely underneath. His pits were slowly turning a shade darker, and it was clearly apparent.

"A… a uh… um…. A… engagement?" He said finally, before she held up her hand, silencing him.

"You mean, a date?" She asked, grinning slightly, revealing perfectly clean teeth. Klaus sighed.

"Yes. A… date." He grumbled, spitting the last word out like poison. She smiled, clapping her hands slightly, before she paused. Her cheeks were quickly turning a shade of cherry, and it seemed she could barely contain herself.

"Very well then. Tonight?" She asked, a playful and… predatory tone in her voice. Klaus did some math in his head. He roughly had five or six hours until it turned dark.

"Yes. Tonight. I suppose I will make myself look… decent." Klaus said, more to himself than anything. He still had Bluddflagg's blood stains all over his greatcoat.

"Alright then." She said sensuously. "It's on." She then turned and left, leaving Klaus a sweaty, nervous mess. Oh god emperor, what did he get himself stuck in?

/

An hour later, Klaus had bribed out nearly the entire galley of cooks and chefs to take a two hour break, he cracked his knuckles. He hung his greatcoat on a coathanger, took off his gas mask and helmet and hung it. He sighed, and grabbed an apron, and wrapped it around his waist. He moved his hair back, and pulled his sleeves up.

"Klaus. We need to cook." Priest Klaus announced. Klaus glanced over to the white robed guardsman, who was leaning on a cookbook. Grenadier Klaus still sat on his shoulder, grumbling quietly.

"I can't believe we are doing this…" He proclaimed aloud, crossing his arms. Klaus began to look through the cookbook, looking at any recipes that were at least possible. His tools were rather limited, and he only had two hours.

"Well we are. Now be useful, or shut up." Klaus grumbled, though he himself couldn't really believe it either. He constantly reminded himself that the purpose was for information, not for romance. But he couldn't help but feel… excited.

"Stew perhaps?" Priest Klaus suggested, as he clambered up his arm, and sat firmly on his other shoulder.

"How about a cyanide pill?" Grenadier Klaus said sarcastically. Klaus didn't pay him any attention, as he continued to look through.

"Well, we know she is at least a vegetarian…" Klaus mumbled, flipping another page, before he stopped.

"Perhaps a cake?" Klaus suggested, showing it to his subconsciousness. Priest Klaus took a long look at it, before nodding, showing his approval.

"Yes, that would be perfect." Priest Klaus said, before they both looked at Grenadier Klaus. He grumbled, muttering curses underneath his breath.

"Goddamnit. Fine. I'm only doing this for us, Klaus." Grenadier Klaus growled, giving his consent. Klaus put the cookbook on the table, looking at the recipe closely.

"Delicious Chocolate Cake." Priest Klaus read, as Klaus stepped back. He hadn't cooked in a while. More like ever, if you didn't count sandwiches and sprinkling salt into his tasteless rations.

"Eight cups of flour, four cups of milk, four teaspoons of mild spices, eight eggs, a flask of Stormwind Tawny, and three teaspoons of Mageroyal." Priest Klaus read slowly, pausing after every ingredient. Klaus began to search and loot the cupboards, while Grenadier Klaus tried to open the icebox. Of course, since he was not a physical being, he could not do so. Klaus opened a cupboard, revealing spoons and silverware, but none of the ingredients. After hitting several other cupboards, he finally put all of the ingredients on a counter in front of him.

"Instructions?" Klaus asked. Grenadier Klaus shoved Priest Klaus aside, and began to read.

"Step one. Pour flour, milk, and eggs into bowl, and mix." He read aloud. Sounded simple enough.

Klaus reached for a bowl, and set it down. He scooped one cup of flour. The white powder sifted right into his nose, as he had scooped it too aggressively. Klaus sneezed downwards, spilling the flour all over his shirt, turning it a bright white.

"Frakk." He coughed, wheezing slightly. Things were already going swimmingly. This time, he slowly scooped up the flour, cup by cup. He then painstakingly poured it into the bowl. Once the last cup of flour was taken care of, he then began to crack each and every egg into the bowl. Instead of cracking it though, he simply crushed it with his hands, getting shards of eggshell everywhere in the mix.

"Isn't that not safe?" Priest Klaus asked, looking into the bowl. Grenadier Klaus chuckled, as he dragged Priest Klaus down.

"It'll give the girl some protein. She needs it." He retorted.

Klaus then poured in the milk, before he gave it a whiff. He realized in disgust that one of the bottles of milk was spoiled.

"One of them was spoiled!" He growled in disgust, sliding the bottle away. He then took a wooden spoon, and began to mix it as fast as possible.

"You can always get it fresh." Priest Klaus suggested, chuckling lightly at his rather raunchy joke. Grenadier Klaus turned on him in an instant, and began to strangle him with his bare hands.

"DON'T EVEN FUCKING SUGGEST IT TO HIM!" Grenadier Klaus screamed, as he began to try and crush Priest Klaus's larynx.

"Step two?" Klaus asked, finally giving up on trying to separate the two. Grenadier Klaus paused from strangling Priest Klaus, and glanced over to the cook book, dragging the suffocating personality with him.

"Add flask and and Mageroyal. Stir, then add spices." Grenadier Klaus said, before he chuckled lightly, and leaned into Priest Klaus whispering "Now where were we?" as he continued to savagely beat Priest Klaus.

Klaus took the herbs and began to rip them up, and lightly sprinkle them into the mix. He did not notice a couple of bugs that he accidentally crushed, and sprinkled their carapaces into the batter. He then took the flash of alcohol, and poured a generous amount into the batter, before he downed the rest of it in one go. He wiped his lips, and burped violently. He was going to need quite a lot of alcohol to drink down the guilt afterwards.

He snatched the spoon, and started to mix the batter together. Then he realized something.

"Frakk. We forgot to light the stove." He realized, as he put down the spoon, and turned. A stone oven sat in the corner of the kitchen. He just needed to light it. But with what, he wondered.

/

Lofn smoothed out her robes, which was now recently washed. Words could not describe what she was feeling. Eldar had emotions far more intense than humans did. An eldar's scorn was something that could never be washed away, while it may simply be a blip on the radar for a human. And in the same time, an eldar who was happy or excited could not be stopped, nor controlled.

It was a serious blend of emotions that blended within her, a wild concoction filled with colors far beyond the visible spectrum. She was happy, excited, nervous, and worried. And also well, slightly aroused.

Though she really did not want to admit, she genuinely enjoyed him bringing her back. It was heartwarming that he not only considered of trying to help her, but also him also acting out on it. And that kiss…

She simply shivered in anticipation of what he was doing for her. She never expected on him to do anything about this. Infact, she was slightly worried about what he would do to her. She didn't bother sleeping until she found somewhere to drop them off for her too look for help.

It was pure luck, and luck alone that she stumbled across a patrol of Argent Crusaders, who were hunting a small group of zombies and undead, that had managed to elude their grasp. Otherwise, she not only might have been lost in the middle of nowhere, but she could have possibly lost Klaus.

She wouldn't have that. She couldn't have that. Eldrad said himself that if she failed, she would be exiled from the craftworld, and be considered a criminal and an enemy of her people. The stakes were high, and she couldn't possibly lose him.

That was, until the mission was complete. That made her pause. What would she do with him after he did what he was supposed to do, with the prophecy fulfilled?

Their was a small chance that she could ever actually return home. And a slimmer one for him to do the same. Even then, he wouldn't be welcomed where he truly belonged. The Imperium. The Death Korps. That's where he really belonged. Not on a craftworld, not in the Tau Empire, not anywhere. But she knew that they would not greet him with open arms, but with a single bullet in the back of his head.

So more likely or not, he would stay here on Azeroth. Someone had to watch him, and made sure he didn't snap. To make sure that his head stayed on his shoulders.

Lofn sighed, as she began to prepare herself. The sun was close to setting. It was almost time.

She supposed that she could ask if he wanted to come with her. It was highly unlikely that Eldrad would let him, but she supposed it was worth a try.

"Now where were we…" She mumbled, as she looked into the mirror, and sighed. She supposed she could fix herself up a bit.

/

Klaus smacked the flames off of his sleeve, saving himself from any serious burns. However, his right sleeve was now scorched and burned. Klaus ripped off the burned section of his sleeve, and chucked it away. He sighed, spitting on his hands, as he looked at his… his masterpiece.

It was roughly four to five inches tall, and at least a foot wide. A decent food item if he said so himself.

"Should we try it?" Klaus asked. Grenadier Klaus and Priest Klaus appeared on his shoulders in a poof of smoke. They both looked at the cake for a few good moments, before Priest Klaus pointed something out.

"Did we ever put in chocolate?" Priest Klaus asked. Klaus paused. Grenadier Klaus let out a sigh.

"Oh for FUCKS sake." Grenadier Klaus shouted, throwing his hands down. Klaus grabbed the recipe book, looking at the page that had the recipe. He looked through it three times, before he cursed aloud, throwing it down.

"It didn't even have fucking chocolate!" He shouted in anger, stamping his foot into the ground.

"What kind of recipe is that?"

"Fucking Blizzard."

Priest Klaus and Klaus glanced at Grenadier Klaus with a curious look. He laughed nervously.

"Right… copyright." He chuckled, shuffling slightly. Klaus shook his head, as he grabbed a couple of plates and forks.

"You think she eats with her hands?" Priest Klaus asked. Grenadier Klaus chuckled.

"Nah, that's too… barbaric for her." Grenadier Klaus taunted. Klaus grabbed the cake and plates with one hand, shoving the forks and knives into his pocket. He also grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. Just in case she wanted it.

"So where are we going?" Klaus asked. Priest Klaus stroked his chin.

"We can do this in one of the cannon towers." Priest Klaus suggested. Klaus shrugged. Sounded like a good idea.

"Alright, let's go." Klaus grumbled.

/

After climbing up the rather large staircase of the tower, Klaus had set everything up. The table, the cloth, the cake, the plates, the silverware, the alcohol. It was all ready for a certain guest.

"Remember Klaus. This isn't for a romantic purpose. You are just luring her into a trap, where we can learn more about her." Grenadier Klaus grumbled, obviously displeased of the current events.

"We can't back out now, now can we?" Priest Klaus snapped back. Both were about to begin pummeling each other, when Klaus stopped them.

"Enough. Both of you." Klaus growled. He turned, leaning on the balcony of the tower, rubbing one of the steel cannons softly with his glove. They all looked out the balcony together, sighing collectively.

"It's a nice view." Priest Klaus pointed out. They all nodded.

"Aye. It is." Grenadier Klaus sighed. Klaus looked up into the night sky, seeing the stars that painted it like a masterpiece of art. Each star felt like it was their for a reason. He could notice several constellations, though of course, the meaning was lost on him.

"I miss it." Klaus sighed. Both of his subconsciousness looked at him collectively.

"Miss what?" Priest Klaus asked. Klaus leaned forward, slightly tilting off of the steel fence.

"Home. Krieg." Klaus replied. Grenadier Klaus gave him a pat on the back of his neck, though he did have to reach out by quite a bit.

"We'll get home. Don't you worry." Grenadier Klaus mumbled, giving Priest Klaus a deadly look. Priest Klaus shuffled slightly at his withering stare. They heard footsteps coming up the tower. And they had listened to enough of to realize who it was.

"Klaus? You in there?" He heard. Klaus sighed.

"Come in." Klaus stated. He heard the door open, and close lightly. It was a good thing he had lit some candles, as the moonlight did not reach far enough to reveal her. Klaus turned, and stopped.

The second he saw Lofn, both he and his two personalities instantly dropped their jaws. It was as if turning from point a to point b had fried so many synapses in their minds, that they became utterly dumbstruck.

"By the emperor." Both of his personalities mumbled.

Lofn was looking absolutely stunning. While her robes looked the same, though she had recently cleaned and washed it, it was her whole look that made his jaw drop. Lofn's already pretty face was increased in beauty to such a degree that it took a whole 32 seconds and 285 milliseconds for him to even say something. She smiled coyly, a fresh layer of makeup making her pale face more with a brown tint. The area around her eyes were freshly marked with stencil and other items, making her eyes emblazoned. Her hair was carefully washed and brightened, turning her normally dark brown hair into a bright shade of amber. It glistened in the moonlight, seemingly still wet. Her lips were coated with a bright red gloss, a red so strong that when it shined back in the moonlight, it was nearly blinding. She strutted forward, and smiled slightly.

"I thought you said you were going to make yourself… presentable." She said finally, crossing her arms over her chest. Klaus took a moment to realize his error, and he utterly facepalmed himself. He had forgot to change back into his greatcoat. He still wore his absolutely disgusting undergarments, which were dirty, stained with flower, spices, and other ingredients. Part of his right sleeve was missing, and he smelled like shit. Klaus chuckled nervously, and sat down.

"I uh… heat of the moment… I guess." He said nervously, before realizing that was the exact opposite of what he meant to say.

"No! That's not what i meant. I meant… err.." He fumbled, trying to get the right words out. Lofn smiled slightly, as she slowly, predatorily, came forward, until she was right in front of him.

"I uhh… was too busy… er… prepar-" He said, before she put a finger to his lips.

"Shut up." She simply said, as she leaned in and kissed him. Klaus froze, completely caught off guard. His eyes opened up wide in surprise, before they slowly closed, as he took in the moment. His arms creeped behind her back, pulling her close. He had to slightly bend down, as he was a bit taller than her.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck this is not going to plan!" Grenadier Klaus shouted in panic. Priest Klaus chuckled.

"I thought Korpsmen have nothing to fear." He taunted, insulting him. Grenadier Klaus let out a scream, as he tackled Priest Klaus off of his shoulder. They tumbled down, landing right on Lofn's foot, which she had raised up. They bounced up, landing on the table. They then continued to pummel each other, when Lofn finally pulled back. She smiled slightly, wiping the lipstick smears on Klaus's lips. She walked away, and pulled up her chair, and sat down.

"You baked this?" She asked, gesturing to the cake. Klaus meanwhile was trying to recuperate his inability to speak. Finally, he gathered his words together. What the HELL was he thinking?!

"Uh. Yes." Klaus mumbled, gulping heavily, as he sat down in his chair. He ignored his personalities, as Priest Klaus was currently performing a DDT on Grenadier Klaus. Forget them, he told himself, you can do this by yourself.

"When did you make this?" Lofn asked, gesturing to the cake once more. Her lips were starting to water.

"A … ah uh few hours ago. It took a while to bake… burned my hands." He chuckled nervously, showing off the first degree burns on his hands. She sighed, before smiling.

"Well, I appreciate the effort." She smiled. Grenadier Klaus now chokeslammed Priest Klaus onto the tablecloth, and climbed up a plate, before he leaped down, and did a moonsault right onto Priest Klaus's back. Klaus shooed them away with his hand, while they continued to savagely beat each other to a pulp.

Klaus looked back up, noticing that Lofn had already taken a sizeable chunk of the cake. Klaus nervously chuckled.

"It wasn't my best. I haven't baked… ever…" He mumbled, as she took her fork and knife, and cut a piece off. Priest Klaus stopped choking Grenadier Klaus in an elbow hold to watch with horror, as they prepared for Lofn to spit it out, go ballistic, or worse. Walk out.

But instead, she let out a sigh full of delight, getting a surprised reaction from both of them.

"I've never had this before! What's it called?" She asked, grinning like a child.

"Erm… cake." He mumbled, glancing back at his personalities, as if to confirm what he was seeing and hearing. She began to violently stuff herself with it, at a rate so fast that her entire piece was gone in less than twenty seconds. Klaus's eye twitched. He hadn't even touched his own creation yet, and she was already finished with a quarter of it.

"Remember Klaus, the interrogation!" Priest Klaus roared, as he grabbed Grenadier Klaus by the ankle, and began to smash his knee into the table. Of course, the interrogation!

Klaus cleared his throat, as he reached for the wine bottle. He hoped that none of the chefs would notice if he stole this from them. He began to pour himself a glass, his eyes fixed on the red liquid that quickly filled up the goblet. He swirled it around a little bit, before he paused.

"Would you like a sip?" He asked softly. She glanced at the goblet in his hand, before she shook her head.

"No. I don't drink that poison." She stated. Klaus smirked.

"Come now. A superior race such as yourself should be able to take a little of this poison, no?" Klaus chuckled, teasing her, before he took a sip of wine. To his surprise, she deftly snatched it from his grasp, and downed half of it one go. Klaus raised an eyebrow in surprise, and in suspicion, as she wiped her lips of the liquid. She paused, looking directly at him, before she smiled slightly.

"I didn't want for you to feel left out." She said. Klaus nodded. Before, he mentally cleared his head. The interrogation. Right.

He already had several questions prepared and ready to go. Now, it simply came to asking them.

Before he got the chance, Lofn stood up, and slowly walked to the balcony. The bright red gemstone around her neck shimmered in the light, as she went to the balcony, and sighed.

"Klaus, have you ever considered… retiring?" She asked softly. Klaus paused. Grenadier Klaus and Priest Klaus stopped fighting, as they both realized what was going on.

"Nonononononono buddy don't answer her, its a trap!" Grenadier Klaus shouted, but it was too late.

"No. I cannot retire or rest from my duty." Klaus simply said, as he rose up, and stood next to her. They both looked out the balcony together, neither of them saying anything for a good two minutes.

"Hey! Remember the plan!" Grenadier Klaus shouted, snapping his fingers. He did not get a response from Klaus.

"Its a nice view from here." Lofn pointed out. Klaus agreed.

"Yes. It is." He replied. She then gave him a hard look.

"Thank you." She said suddenly. Klaus froze.

"For what?" He asked. She suddenly grabbed him in an embrace. Klaus's eyes widened up in surprise.

"For everything. You are the nicest person I have ever met." She said softly, her voice soft enough just for him to hear.

/

Meanwhile, Bluddflagg had finished another round of brew and alcohol. Though it wasn't exactly the strongest, it didn't really matter. The Argent Crusaders were good company. Though at first they were off put by his size, weapons, and trophies, they quickly grew fond of him, simply because he knew how to have fun.

After he had played a couple rounds of gambling and chugging contests, Bluddflagg stumbled out of the tavern, chuckling to himself.

"Heh, dat wuz fun." He grinned, as he slowly walked away from the tavern. It was getting close to midnight anyways, and he was getting tired. It was rather dark out tonight too. He then noticed something. In one of the cannon towers, there was a faint light, and two figures. Bluddflagg reached into a pocket of his tunic, pulling out a pair of magnoculars. Struggling to use it properly, since he only had one hand, he held it up to his eyes, squinting to get a better view. His eye's widened in surprise, then he growled.

"Dose TWATS! Dey'z about to zog, and dey didn't even tell me bout it!" Bluddflagg grumbled, shoving the magnoculars back into his coat.

"I aint bouf to lose a bet to Mista NAILBRAIN!" He snarled, as he began to devise a plan to get a front row seat.

/

Klaus slowly digested the information she had told him. A merciless and heartless Grenadier, designed to strike fear and terror in the hearts of the enemies of man, was now nominated the nicest person in someone's life. This meant two things. Either, he really had to step up his game, or perhaps the more disturbing option, that he really was the nicest person she had ever met.

"What, what do you mean?" He asked. She pulled away, looking right into his eyes. Tears were slowly but surely beginning to well up in the corner of her eyes.

"Did i ever tell you, what my own people did to me?" She asked softly. Klaus thought about it for a moment.

"No." He simply said. She sighed.

"Do you want to know why you are the nicest, sweetest, person I have ever known?" She asked again. Klaus was starting to get annoyed by her wordplay, but he kept it out of his tone.

"Yes." He replied. She sighed.

"On the craftworld, they beat me. I could never leave our home without being threatened for my life. I could never wander outside, could never play with anyone, because if i tried, they would try to kill me." She stated. She sniffled a little bit, before she continued.

"My parents told me that If i had ever met a monkeigh, they would kill me, without a second thought. They told me that I should never go outside by myself." She added on. The waterworks were really running now. Her makeup was starting to get washed away, revealing her paperwhite skin from the tannish hue that it had used as a disguise.

"And then one day, my mother left the craftworld, for a mission. She… she never came back." She slowly said.

"Then my father left, trying to go look for her. To bring her back, dead or alive I had to stay with my aunt, lest I risked being killed by my own kind. This lasted for five long, agonizing cycles." She said slowly. She took a deep breath, and continued.

"And then, one day, my grandfather came up to me for a proposition. They needed a brave and courageous warrior to go into lands untraveled, to fulfill a prophecy. And in return, when I came back, I would be welcomed back as a hero. I would be welcomed back, as an eldar." She said. Klaus put the pieces together with slow realization.

"I am the nicest person you have ever met, because everyone else could treat you worse than I ever could, when we first met." He slowly said in realization. She smirked.

"Isn't that just… odd?" She asked, smiling slightly. Klaus wiped the tears from her eyes, as they both sat down. She cuddled up in his arms.

"Then I guess I owe you an apology." Klaus said softly. Lofn didn't say anything.

"I am sorry, for the way I have treated you for all this time. If xenos, abhumans and mutants are all the enemies of mankind… I suppose I can make an exception." He whispered.

They held each other in their arms, slowly dozing off.

Bluddflagg let out a growl, crushing the magnoculars in his grip.

"Gorkdammit." He growled, as he slowly began to climb down the cannon tower. He would win this bet. He would see it through.


	59. Chapter 59: The Lord's Return

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH!

Short. Really short, I know.

I'm not really feeling well this week, so I wanted to get this out just to make you guys happy.

Anyways, enjoy.

With morning creeping by, Klaus was in shambles. After the disaster that was last night, he was desperately trying to regroup and reorganize his efforts. The guilty pleasure that was last night however, still haunted him. And it felt that things would be getting worse for him.

Right now he was in a cot, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and his lower undergarments. His skin had gone pale, and his forehead was sweating profusely. He had contracted influenza. And so now, he didn't have a choice to leave bed.

Lofn had left to go get him soup, so for now he was alone. And he really wish that he wasn't, because anything was better than listening to them.

Grenadier Klaus and Priest Klaus were currently screaming at each other, long devolving into a mess of incoherent rambling and nonsensical mumbo jumbo. He paid them no attention, and shut them out of his head.

He glanced back at his weapons, that lied in the corner of the room. It was uncomfortably far away.

He tried to reach for it, but he paused, when he saw a torrent of red flame. He sighed to himself, cursing slightly.

"Damn it." Klaus mumbled. Grenadier and Priest Klaus both stopped talking, and looked up, before they both cursed as well.

"Ah shit, this may be the end. The emperor's angel is about to rip us a new one." Grenadier Klaus mumbled. Klaus sighed, glancing back at the black figure forming in the fire.

"Then we welcome our doom in a lovers embrace." Klaus grumbled.

"Uh, that probably wouldn't be such a great idea. I mean, he literally is covered in fire. You already have first degree burns, no point in upping it to third." Priest Klaus added.

"Duly noted." Klaus mumbled, as Legion walked out of the flames. The Damned Legionnaire chuckled to himself.

"What's so funny?" Klaus demanded. Grenadier Klaus let out a grumble, rubbing his face.

"You just walked right into that one…" Priest Klaus grumbled, while Legion let out a hoot of ghostly laughter.

"Oh it was nothing. Nothing at all." He lied, as one hand went to the center part of his chest, his wheezing laughter emanating from his body.

"Doesn't look like it." Klaus grumbled. Legion still let out a long of giggles, as he tried to control himself. He leaned on the side of the window, and coughed.

"Right, right my… my apologies." Legion said, finally gaining his bearings. He looked at Klaus again, and went into another line of uncontrollable, haunting giggling. He leaned on the wall, glancing at Klaus, and tried to stop laughing.

"I dont see whats funny." Klaus grumbled. Legion was wheezing at this point, trying to stop himself from laughing.

"Its, its nothing I swear. It's just… just… oh… oh emperor." Legion mumbled, as he finally stopped laughing. He took a breath, and glanced back at Klaus, and cleared his throat.

"Right, as I was going to say..." He said, brushing off a small burst of flame off of his shoulder.

"Klaus, I am afraid you don't have much time." Legion said, as he began to pace around his bed.

"The forces of chaos are beginning to amass an army. Ahriman has taken control of the undead legions, and likewise, is building up a massive force, using splinter cells in the populations all around the world to begin gathering corpses from grave yards." Legion began. Klaus listened patiently.

"At the moment they are fighting each other, but eventually, Ahriman will wipe out the chaos forces. Your friend, Nebetaruk, seems to have been busy gathering up local Necron forces-"

"There's more than one?!" Klaus shouted. Legion sighed.

"Yes. I will deal with them, in due time. Regardless, you will need to be ready in time to destroy the lich king, foil the chaos gods plan, etcetera." Legion grumbled. Klaus glanced at himself.

"A bit sick." He pointed out, followed by an awkward cough. Legion rubbed his hands together. They quickly became engulfed in a fiery inferno of red.

"I agree. You will be doing nothing productive here." He said, gesturing to the sickbay. Luckily, he was the only one here. Legion then came up to him, and put his flaming hand right Klaus's chest.

Klaus thought he had known pain, but the second Legion touched him, the most painful agony wracked his entire frame. He let out a cry of pain, as he desperately tried to keep his screams back, as the red flame traveled all over him. It danced over his skin, leaving a trail of smoke, as it finally closed around his neck, and went right to his face. Klaus went to bat it off, but just like that, it was gone.

He paused. He felt… far better than he did before. He slowly got up. He felt like a new man. He looked over his hands and body. A faint red glow eminated from his skin, before it faded back into a red flame, that formed in the center of his skin. Legion stuck his hand out. The flame was sucked back into the Legionnaires hand like a vortex, and it disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"What the…" he mumbled to himself. Legion snickered.

"A little trick. Now get up, and go over to those tournament grounds. You have a king to slay." Legion said, as he disappeared in flames, still chuckling to himself.

/

On a rotten and ancient space hulk, one that was literally falling apart at the seams, Unkle was hard at work. The ork had been working nonstop for weeks, trying to get the device to work. He ran into a multitude of problems, from a shortage of materials, to a shortage of nails, and most devastating, a shortage of sandwiches and lemonade.

He wiped off a thick crease of sweat from his brow, as he took out his welder, and began to seal a hole in the coolant pipe shut. Of course, this wasn't the actual use of a welder, but he was running out of options.

The eldar that were watching him were relentless. Though he knew that none would be able to stay in the same room as him, he knew that they were watching from every angle. Every now and then he thought he saw a shimmer from far above, or a glimmer from the viewing ports outside. This place was locked down, hard. The ork wouldn't be able to even move, without the eldar knowing. And if he even tried to escape, they would blast him sky high.

No, they wouldn't, he told himself, as he emptied out a fuel cell from his welder. It clattered to the ground, and rolled away, while he reached over and snatched another plasma core. He shoved it into the welder, moving the greedy wires away. The wires happily snatched up the plasma cell, and dragged it back into the welder. Unkle pulled the trigger, getting a blinding blue spark. He then continued to drag it down, melting the metal that formed the coolant.

They wouldn't dare kill him, because otherwise, their entire plan would be ruined. He knew that he was the only one who had created a multi dimensional tellyporta. The Imperium tried to replicate his design, but that only worked once. And even then, it was only one time.

Unkle scratched his cybernetic eye in frustration. Finally, it was sealed shut. The ork slipped off his welding mask, and threw it away in anger. He shoved his welder back into his holster, as he walked over to the other side of the tellyporta, and flipped the switch. He stood back in awe, as the device began to work itself into a frenzy.

The device bucked, kicked and screamed, as it began to power itself up. In order to power up such a device, Unkle needed a massive reservoir of power. And the eldar provided. Well, not the eldar he thought.

Where Eldrad had managed to scrounge up some 'clients' in Commoragh, he didn't know. Where the dark eldar, managed to get the energy of a supernova contained into such a small box was also unknown, but they managed. And he wasn't complaining. It was doing wonders for him. The ork stepped back, as the device stopped shaking uncontrollably. It began twitching in motion, but other then that, it was stable. The ork breathed in exasperation.

"Its… it's done." Unkle mumbled to himself, still shocked. He hadnt expected it to be this… this efficient.

"I assume it's done." A familiar voice said, right over his shoulder. The ork hollered in panic, falling to the ground.

Eldrad Ulthran chuckled to himself, watching the ork squirm. Unkle composed himself and shot up like a rocket, adjusting his hat.

"Err, yes. Its finished alright. Problem is that once we start da portal, it aint turning off." Unkle grumbled. Eldrad glanced at the device, his hands clasped behind his back.

"What does that mean?" Eldrad asked. Unkle sighed, rubbing his lips.

"Well, its simpul. Once it makes da portal, it needs constant powa to keep it up. With da power of dat supernova, it can be kept running for a while, but not fer long." Unkle explained. Eldrad nodded.

"And how long will it remain open?" He asked. Unkle did some estimations in his head, despite his very low knowledge of any mathematics whatsoever.

"If I have ta say, then i'm gonna say six hours." Unkle grumbled. Eldrad shot him a glance, to which the ork shrugged.

"Makin a portal to another dimension takes up a lot of powa ya know." He chuckled. Eldrad nodded slowly, glancing back at the machine.

"Very well. You are not leaving this vessel until this machine's purpose has been fulfilled." Eldrad grumbled, as he began to walk away. The ork took a few seconds to register what Eldrad said, before he jolted up from his slouched position.

"OI! WE HAD A DEAL!" Unkle shouted accusingly. Eldrad chuckled, as dozens of Aspect Warriors surrounded the ork, pointing a variety of weapons that would leave Unkle a steaming pile of flesh.

"No, we did not. You owed me a favor. I called it in. You are still needed, but when you aren't…" Eldrad said, leaving dead air at the end of his sentence. Unkle realized what he meant. His eyes narrowed, and his hands were balled up into fists.

"You bastard." Unkle hissed. Eldrad chuckled.

"Yes. I am afraid that you won't be leaving this space hulk alive." He simply said, before he stopped walking. He chuckled slightly, as he walked away.

"For the craftworld." He proclaimed, before he opened the door, and walked out. He turned to face the ork, and gave him a little wave, before the door closed.

As Unkle was escorted into a hastily made prison cell, he only thought of one thing. What a fucking dick he was…

/

Klaus was busy polishing his boots, the good old fashioned way. With a spit and rag.

Lofn winced slightly, as Klaus let out a mighty hack, and spat all over his boots, covering it with a translucent mucus. He then grabbed his rag, and began to violently rub in his saliva all over his steel tipped boots as hard and fast as possible, almost as if he was trying to rip at the material underneath.

Now that she was paying more attention to him then before, she was slowly starting to realize why her kin called humans, mon'keigh. Barbarians. They did such strange and unusual things, for no reason. Spit polishing, for example.

Klaus was deeply concentrated on his work, violently sawing at his boot with the now filthy rag. Grime and dirt had quickly swarmed the rag, coating it with a vile and disgusting color. Klaus didn't seem to mind, as he dipped it into a pail of water, and squeezed the water out of it. He then shook it, spat on his boot, and began to work on it again.

"Stare any harder and your eyes will be popping out of your skull." Klaus snorted. Lofn snapped out of the trance in an instant.

"It was nothing." She said quickly. Klaus chuckled.

"Sure. I'll let you think that." Klaus grumbled. The door to the room they were in was violently shoved open.

Bluddflagg was heaving, out of breath. He was leaning down and hunched, trying to get a few sentences out of his mouth.

"Tin… tin boy is here…" Bluddflagg grumbled, wiping his mouth of froth. Lofn shot up.

"The Necrontyr?" She asked. Bluddflagg gave her a puzzled look, before he counted his fingers slowly. He stopped at three, and nodded.

"Yeah. Da tin boy." He said, confirming what she said. Instantly, she bolted forward, coming right up to the greenskin. He still smelled awful as usual, though he smelled quite better than usual.

"Where?" She demanded. Bluddflagg nudged his head.

"Just outside da gate. I would suggest you hurry up, fore he loses his head. Dey fink he iz sum undead twat." Bluddflagg grumbled.

"That wouldn't stop him." Klaus shouted, getting both the ork and grenadier to chuckle, while Lofn left them to their own devices.

Running as fast as she could, she ended up right at the gates in less than thirty seconds. She shoved crusader after crusader aside in a mad frenzy, just to see the Necron. But when she did, she stopped immediately.

There wasn't just one Necron. There were at least fifty. She immediately spotted the Necron Lord, but as she looked around, she realized in horror what the others were.

"Flayed ones…" She whispered. The Necron Lord stepped forward. He was still wearing his tattered green robes, along with the green cube that was now chained to his body. He held the warscythe in one hand, while with the other, he held a strange looking scepter. It had appeared that the Necron had modified both to be held one handed, though how that would work well was a mystery.

"Ah. Lofn Ulthran. I was wondering where the rest of you had went." The Necron Lord said, stepping forward.

"Where… where did you get…" She mumbled, looking past the Necron Lord. The Necron Lord glanced over his shoulder.

"Oh, them?" The Necron said, turning around to face the hunched metal wracks, many still covered in furry arachnid skin. He sighed, slightly waving at them.

"Unfortunately, they are the only subjects that survived." He grumbled, as he flicked his hands back at them. They began to disappear into the ground, being dragged into the snow. Murmurs came from the crowd that watched, as the flayed ones disappeared into the ground.

"Now… where were we?" The Necron lord asked, glancing back at her. He then looked over, and seemed to pale, if he could, at the sight of Bluddflagg and Klaus. They both came forward, decked in their wargear. Bluddflagg gave the Necrontyr a good, hard glance.

"Say, Tin Boy… where's me krew? Where's Spookums, where's Mista Nailbrain?" Bluddflagg demanded. He stopped walking, feet away from the Necron. He was silent for a few moments, the necron looking like a toy in the massive presence of the warboss.

"Deceased." The Necron said suddenly. Bluddflagg was confused.

"Wot?" He asked.

"Dead. They are both dead." The Necron said again. Lofn's heart fell at the sound of that, while Klaus whistled quietly.

"Damn." He whispered, barely audible. Bluddflagg stared at the Necron hard, almost as if he could not believe him.

"Dead…" He mumbled slowly, trying to process what happened.

"Dead. Spookums gave his life to save us from the monsters beneath, while Mista Nailbrain freezed to death in the snow. I tried to protect him, but I failed." The Necron said slowly.

"Their deaths, are my responsibility. I await your punishment." he said, looking up to the warboss with defiance. Klaus whistled again. Bluddflagg glanced at him so hard, Lofn sweared that his fiery eye could literally shoot bolts of flame from it. If looks could kill, the Necron wouldn't even exist at that point.

"Did… did dey suffer?" Bluddflagg asked softly, genuine sadness in his voice. Lofn was shellshocked at this point, glancing back at the Necron.

"No. I put him out of his misery, if that is what you were asking." The Necron said quietly. Bluddflagg looked at The Necron, before he collapsed to his knees.

"No… dey… dey can't be dead…" Bluddflagg said softly. The Necron came forward, and lightly patted his back.

"I… I am sorry." The Necron said comfortingly. He then looked up, and gave Lofn a piercing glare.

"We need to talk." He stated in a pitch and volume perfect for her to hear, and not to Klaus. She gave Klaus a glance, who was tying his shoes. No escaping this...


	60. Chapter 60: Shatter

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here

New Chapter

Not much to say

Peanuts

Enjoy

"I want them out." Lofn demanded, crossing her arms. The Necron Lord looked at her firmly.

"Want what out?" The Necron Lord asked. Lofn sighed, trying to keep her voice down. Klaus was sleeping a few meters away after all.

They had left the fortress a while ago, and now were walking to the tournament grounds. A dangerous route, to be sure of, but they had the advantage of speed on their hands. Somewhat.

Klaus had fallen asleep a while ago, and now Bluddflagg was carrying him over his shoulder, as the three of them walked forward with a brisk pace.

"Whatever you did to him. I want you to stop." She hissed. The Necron Lord seemed puzzled, before he seemed to finally understand.

"Ah. The mindshackle scarabs." He grumbled, before he looked at her. His two green eyes looked her over slowly, before he snorted, and looked away.

"Impossible." He mumbled. Lofn was surprised at first, but anger quickly began to take root.

"I said. You are going to get those things out of him." Lofn growled angrily. The Necron Lord scoffed, looking at her.

"Insolent scum. Must I repeat myself. It is impossible." The Necron scoffed, looking at his hands, brushing off some snow from his claws.

"Then you better make it possible Ceiba-ny-shak." Lofn cursed, slowly walking forward to the Necron.

"Let me explain it to you very slowly, and very diligently, lest I lose my temper." The Necron hissed, noting that they had attracted Bluddflagg's gaze. The warboss looked at them for a few moments, before he looked away, changing his posture slightly. Lofn crossed her arms, and huffed.

"Go ahead." She demanded. The Necron shuffled.

"Well, to begin with, when you requested to alters Klaus's emotions and feelings and hatred, you gave me a task that was impossible to begin with. Mindshackle scarabs work by infiltrating the brain, and giving subliminal messages and thoughts. They were not designed, and were never made for the purpose, of changing how an individual feels." The Necron began. He paused, looking at Klaus, before he continued.

"Regardless, it is something I have tried. The scarabs currently are working within his limbic system. It is the part of his brain that controls and processes memory and emotions. They have been working on altering his memory, and subliminally testing emotions to their changes. When it fails, they cover up their work, and start it all over again." The Necron said, before he paused again.

"However, there are… complications. Mainly Klaus's immune system. It is extremely active and aggressive, completely destroying or annihilating any foreign presence in his body that is encountered. Plenty of Mindshackle scarabs have already been destroyed by his immune system, and due to this, the ones that still remain are waning. Losing ground." He added. Lofn took a few moments to process this information. The Necron continued.

"As so, removal and extraction would be incredibly dangerous. To begin with, while it is easy for Mindshackle scarabs to go in, it is nearly impossible for them to get out. To get them out properly, it would require extensive brain surgery with a high chance of failure, a high chance that could lead to coma, permanent brain damage, paralysis, internal hemorrhaging, retardation, and death." He said.

"In addition, if the nano scarabs were to leave now, the altered memories would begin to reform back to what they once were, while his emotions would still remain the same. If the nano scarabs would leave, the immune system would notice all of the altered brain tissue, and would lead to a massive immune response, that would destroy higher brain functions. Klaus would be as dumb and as still as a rock, then die shortly after." The Necron added nonchalantly. He looked at Lofn, and chuckled.

"So in short. It is impossible. Either let the Scarabs finish their job, or risk the death of your lover." The Necron said. Lofn fumed in anger, before she tried to calm herself down. Something she would have accomplished.

"Let this be a lesson, that thought should come before feelings of sexual reproduction." The Necron grumbled.

Lofn screamed in anger, as in an instant, warp energy shot out from her hands. The Necron's eyes brightened in surprise, as the force of all of the warp energy slammed into the Necron like a train. The Necrons body was sent spiralling into a rocky cliff fifty feet away, the impact being so powerful that it smashed the cliff into two, sending dozens of rocks and boulders rolling down. Lofn huffed slowly, catching her breath. Bluddflagg meanwhile was intrigued and surprised at the sudden action, looking between them. Klaus was still sleeping. No surprise there.

The pile of rubble moved slightly, as the Necron ripped itself out of the pile of boulders.

"Whats wrong? Afraid to admit your own mistakes? That your lust for a friend could cost him his own mind?" The Necron asked, slowly walking forward. Lofn pulled out her staff from a recently made sling, and shot out a psychic bolt of energy in blind rage. The bolt of energy slammed into the Necrons chest. He slumped down, before he stood back up, walking forward again.

"I see now. You regret your choices before. You realized that forcing this onto one is cruel, and selfish. But it is too late. The choice has been made. The die, cast." The Necron growled. Another shot of warp energy got him in the knee, causing him to buckle down. The servos within the black necrodermis failed, but began to slowly rebuild itself.

"Yes, I understand. You just don't want to face the consequences of him finding out how you tried to destroy the believes that he was taught and raised upon." He added on. Lofn stopped, breathing heavily.

"You don't want him to find out. If he had a choice, he would never pursue such a relationship. A choice, that you forcefully took away. Ruined. Now he considers himself impure. A failure. A stain that deserves to be washed. Scum, that deserved to be stamped out, destroyed entirely. And it is all, your fault." He growled. Lofn looked at the Necron with a gaze full of fury. He merely scoffed, flicking shards of rock that was still lodged in his metal skin.

"You know I am right. But to admit your worst enemy had proven you wrong would hurt your pride." The Necron taunted.

"Oi. Lay off da twig." Bluddflagg demanded. Lofn was surprised, and was touched that the ork came to her defence. Slightly. The Necron glanced at the ork, and scoffed.

"No. I think not." The Necron said, glancing back at Lofn.

"In order to proceed, I will make sure that Lofn admits her mistake. To both herself, and him." The Necron said, pointing a finger accusingly at her, and then to Klaus.

"What do you mean, 'admit my mistakes'?" She demanded. The Necron scoffed.

"You know what I mean. I respect honor, but I loathe treachery, and that is what you have committed. Treachery, deceit, and lies. You have one week to admit your mistakes, before I will do it for you." The Necron growled, as he grabbed his warscythe, which he had dropped on the ground, and then walked away. Bluddflagg glanced at the Necron, then at Lofn, and then Klaus, who was still snoring on his shoulder.

"So uh… wots going on ere?" Bluddflagg asked.

/

Klaus slowly stirred from his slumber, slowly opening his eyes. He noticed something. Well, a few things really. One, was that he was upside down. Second, was that he smelled awful. Third, was that he was seeing bare green ass, and by the emperor, it was not pretty.

Klaus's eyes widened, as he realized that perhaps he had been captured.

"What the hell?!" He shouted, struggling to break free.

"Oi? Wot? Oh. Yer awake." Bluddflagg grumbled, as he dropped Klaus. Klaus landed right in the snow, landing with a soft whump. The cold sensation of the snow instantly hit him, relieving him of Bluddflaggs humid, sweat aura. He slowly pulled himself up, wiping the snow off of his uniform with a sigh. He looked around, to realize that they were… alone.

"Where is Lofn? And the Necron?" he asked, looking back at Bluddflagg. Bluddflagg sat down, as he chucked another piece of wood into a little fire.

"I unno." Bluddflagg grumbled, as he shook his hand of splinters. He paused, and looked at Klaus, before he sighed. He grabbed another piece of wood, and cracked it in his hands, splitting it into two chunks. He then lobbed one half to the other side of the fire.

"Siddown." Bluddflagg suggested. Klaus looked at the greenskin.

"I would rather not, I should go look for th-"

"I said siddown ya grot." Bluddflagg said, more forcibly this time around. Klaus sighed. Obviously, the ork wanted something from him, and if he didn't give in today, he wasn't going to stop. Klaus walked over to the other side of the fire, and slowly sat down. He moved around for a bit, trying to find a comfortable position on the log. Finally satisified, he looked at the ork, and put his hands on his knees.

"So what do you want?" He demanded. The ork looked at him for a few moments, before he finally spoke.

"Say kid…" Bluddflagg began, scratching his neck with his only remaining hand. His Powa Klaw was lying firm on his lap. After all, it was attached to his body now. An odd choice that it wasn't made to be taken off, like his prosthetic, though he never really bothered, since he didn't know how to put it back on. Another reason why he hated that goddamn quarter master, 781123-998467. He was always bad at his job, and Klaus personally wanted to shoot him personally.

"I know yoo and da twig have sumfin… goin on…" He grumbled, a statement that made Klaus pause.

"How long have you known about this?" He demanded, his voice slowly becoming shrill and high pitched. Bluddflagg glared at him, and sighed, rubbing his face.

"Er… I kinda thought dat yoo guyz were doin dis tango since uh… well… da first toime ya met?" He asked, pondering about it for a few moments. Klaus froze.

"Wait. You mean, you've predicted that we would have this kind of… of… relationship… since the first time we met?" He asked. Bluddflagg nodded.

"Yeah. I got it roight of course, do I still havent seen ya zog…" He grumbled. Klaus didn't realize what Bluddflagg was trying to say at first.

"Say… ya two didn't zog a couple of days ago… did ya?" He asked. Klaus then realized what he meant, and his cheeks instantly turned blood red.

"No! Nononononononononononononononono! I wou- I would never-never-never!" He stammered. Bluddflagg looked at him squarely, slowly looking him up and down.

"Ya sure? I know Mista Nailbrain aint around… anymore…" He grumbled, his mocking tone dipping at the mention of his dead crewmate. He sighed, and looked back at him.

"But I don't want him ta win, even doe he's dead." He grumbled, finally ending the akward silence. Klaus chuckled nervously.

"Nonononononononononononnononooononononnonopenopenopenopenope. Never. Never I would never-"

"But ya still had a date. Roight?" Bluddflagg asked firmly.

"Yeah…" Klaus mumbled. Bluddflagg gave him a serious look, and continued.

"And did ya have a gud toime?" He asked. Klaus stammered for a few moments, before he sighed.

"Yes. I had a good time." He mumbled. Bluddflagg scratched his back, and continued.

"And dis wuz all… natural… roight?" He asked. Klaus paused, and gave him a suspicious look.

"What do you mean… natural?" Klaus asked. Bluddflagg looked at him, his eyes slowly going up and down Klaus's body. Finally, he sighed.

"Nuffin. Nuffin." He sighed, as he looked back into the fire.

/

Vo'ndrath prepared the summoning circle, humming to himself. It was a haunting and incandescent tune, one that stuck to your soul, a sound that would follow you to the grave, and would still linger.

He lit the thousands of carefully prepared candles with the tip of his finger, which was coated in blue warpflame. Each candle was lit, basking the white snowy field in a sea of blue and purple light. It was a long process to be sure, but Vo'ndrath had to be especially careful. The ritual was very delicate. If a single thing was ruined, then his whole plan would unravel.

"U'zuhl. The skull." Vo'ndrath said slowly, as after half an hour, he lit the final candle. He stepped back, nodding at his work. A massive eight pointed star had been created, the gaps between the candles splattered with blood and skulls taken from battle.

"MAKE THIS QUICK. I THIRST FOR SLAUGHTER." U'zuhl growled, as he pranced forward, shoving the glowing green skull into the horrors awaiting hand. Vo'ndrath grasped the glowing green skull, taking careful observation. He flicked off a few specks of dust, and wiped the glossy surface carefully.

"The skull of Guldan. They say it has quite the magical power." Vo'ndrath whispered. U'zuhl snarled in impatience, as waved his fiery hellblade in the air, making delicate cuts into realspace itself.

"DO THE RITUAL." He commanded. Vo'ndrath sneered, as he put the skull in the center of the circle.

"Round up the sacrifices." He commanded, as he began to chant. His mouth began to quiver, shake, and twitch, forming shapes that were not physically possible. His arms waved up and around, moving at angles that would have broken bones and torn flesh asunder. His staff flared with daemonic energy, energy that slammed into the center of the circle.

U'zuhl meanwhile was rounding up the cultists who had been nominated for this privilege. They each sat between a candle, and each grasped a dagger. They held it to their chest, centimeters away from their hearts. There were exactly six hundred and sixty six of them in total.

Vo'ndrath continued to chant, as more energy flowed from the hole in his staff, and into the center of the circle. The Skull of Guldan began to hungrily absorb this energy, as it floated upward, defying gravity itself. The magical properties of this land reinvigorated the daemons, as otherwise they would have long dissipated, and been sent back to the warp. But there were barriers. But Vo'ndrath was about to break them.

"Now!" He commanded. At once, the six hundred and sixty six cultists let out a scream.

"For the Dark Gods!" They shouted, as they plunged their daggers into their hearts, all at the same time. None screamed, none twitched, as all at once, they twisted, ending their lives. They collapsed to the ground, their souls quickly being absorbed into the skull. Vo'ndrath grinned wickedly, as he continued to chant. The white energy of the corrupted souls flowed into the skull, as it could not contain it anymore.

The sky had long since turned a blood red and purplish color, with black lightning striking the ground all around them. U'zuhl looked around in wonder, and smiled evilly, as he looked at the skull.

A screaming red portal began to open. Invisible hands groped out, trying to find a way to escape, as the hole in reality began to widen. The air around them popped, crackled and sizzled, as realspace itself began to suffer from the sheer magnitude of warp energy that collectively began to gather.

"FASTER… FASTER!" U'zuhl roared in eager anticipation, as he eagerly watched and waited. The portal was now becoming wider and larger at a rapid rate. Unholy sounds came from within. Vo'ndrath could hear the sound of marching, cackles of laughter, and chants and cries. Yes…

From the Portal came dozens of chaos space marines. These power armor encased monstrosities came out in semi ordered fashion, all clenching a wide array of weapons. Boltguns, Chainswords, Meltas, Plasma Guns, Power Weapons and more. As the first band of chaos space marines left, another ten came through. Heavily decorated with the trophies of the dead, as well as skulls, spikes and horns, they were no ordinary chaos space marines. They were Chosen Space Marines. It seemed that the Black Legion had answered the call. The finest the dark gods had to offer. These warriors of chaos would lead chaos to glory, and would crush all resistance on this pathetic rock. But these weren't the main show. They were merely the appetizer.

The chaos space marines made way, as two new figures walked out of the portal, followed by hundreds of lesser daemons from both Khorne and Chaos undivided. U'zuhl breathed in exasperation, as did Vo'ndrath.

"Lord… Ka'bandha.." U'zuhl muttered, lowering himself to his knees. Vo'ndrath did the same, but for a different reason.

"Kairos Fateweaver… the pieces have been put in place. The decree of our masters… clear…" He mumbled. The two headed Lord of Change chuckled.

"Then let it begin." He said, as he eyed Icecrown citadel, far in the distance.

/

Somewhere in the Plaguelands, the night sky was uninterrupted, and beautiful. Of course, the land around it was nowhere as beautiful, but still.

Through the night sky, a streaking red object was plowing through the atmosphere at breakneck speed. The object began to slow down, as several parachutes ejected out of the vehicle, slowing the thing down. Yet again, somehow.

Finally, it crashed into a tree, smashing it down to the ground. Splinters of wood and rotten logs werethrown everywhere, as the object slid in the mud, before it stopped. Steam errupted out of the vehicle, as it began to straighten itself out, due to the help of hover pads on the bottom.

The cockpit opened, revealing a shadowy figure that slided out with both fluid and deadly grace, followed by a long pistol, and an even longer rifle. The driver looked at the passenger, and snorted.

"Wot? No change?" He asked. The figure looked at him.

"Leave the premises, before you are terminated." The figure replied. The driver sighed.

"Yeah yeah I'll get outta here. Da engines just need ta warm up." The driver grumbled, taking the blindfold off of his face, rubbing his one remaining eye in drowsiness. He had been driving four roughly thirteen hours. Quite a long ride.

"Remind me of my mission." The figure demanded. The driver sighed, looking at his watch.

"Yer gonna klean up da mess da pointy ear twats leave behoind, den find yer daughta." He grumbled, as he took out a bottle of alchohol, and screwed off the bottle cap, and began to chug it down.

"Isnt driving while intoxicated with alcoholic beverages considered not a good idea?" The figure asked. The driver snorted.

"Ya dont own meeeeeee, don't try to change meeeeee in any way…" The driver sang aloud, waving the bottle in the air. However, he stopped when a muzzle was shoved into his mouth.

"Be silent, before I end your disgusting life." he demanded. He waited for a few moments, before he pulled the gun out of his mouth, and wiped it of saliva.

"Yeah yeah…" The driver said, taking another swig of alcohol. They waited for a few moments.

"Where is my daughter." He simply asked. The driver paused.

"Deyz somewhere in da coldplace up norff. Weze close." He grumbled. The vehicle began to rumble again.

"Roight, toime fer me ta leave. I'm pretty sure ya know where ta leave." The driver grumbled.

"Nowgettoutofdaorkmobeel. Yer stainin da seats, and dis is brand new leatha." The driver grumbled. The figure nodded, as he hopped out. Better away from the ork then near to the ork.

"Roight. See ya Vindy!" Unkle shouted, giving a quick salute, before the cockpit closed. The modified land raider began to slowly lift up into the air, before it flew up into the sky. Albeit, in the most rickety and twitchy way possible.

The Vindicare Assassin sighed, as he began to try and locate the Undercity. He had a body to police.


	61. Chapter 61: Free From These Shackles

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here

Things are coming to a close now.

So in order to finish this thing already, I am going to be heavily focusing on it.

Anyways, enjoy!

It didn't take long for Ahriman to realize their presence. Daemons. Not just daemons though. Greater, daemons. The sorcerer sighed to himself, as he looked out into the icy void from his elevated position. His hands were clenched behind his back. His horned helmet slowly rotated, his eyes scanning the horizon. The armies of chaos had come for him. But Ahriman was anything but unprepared. He grabbed his horned staff, which he had left in the corner of the roo. He held it in his hands, his ceramite encrusted fingers tracing the cursed wood of the shaft of his staff. It had served him well for many centuries. He was sure it wasn't going to disappoint him. He clinked it to the ground, as a mindless droning outside attracted his attention. He looked out, and smiled to himself.

Outside the gates of the frozen throne was a massive amount of corpses. Ahriman smiled to himself, taking out several books and scrolls of necromancy, penned by the necromancer known as Kel'thuzad. The one responsible for making the scourge to begin with. He clinked his staff, and disappeared in a burst of purple energy.

Reappearing on the massive staircase, he looked over the massive amount of corpses. Their certainly were a lot. It stretched for nearly a quarter mile, and was at least five feet tall. Normally, if he raised them now they would become mindless zombies, but Ahriman had been conducting… experiments. Now it was time to put these experiments to the test.

"My… master… the splinter cells have rounded up as many corpses as they could find throughout the kingdoms." Anub'arak stated, as the crypt lord creeped forward. The way the creature said 'Master' suggested that it had a shred of independence left. Ahriman had not checked on the lich king in awhile.

"Excellent. Stand back and shield your eyes… this may be bright…" Ahriman grumbled, as he prepared himself for the massive incantation to come. Taking his staff, he began to channel a massive reservoir of both dark magic and warp energy into the mass of corpses. The unholy green energy of necromancy and the purple and chaotic warp energy melded together, creating a color similar to that of an oil slick, as they poured into the corpses. Ahriman began to chant more and more, as the air crackled and popped. Tendrils of chaotic energy formed purplish and pink tentacles that formed around his boots, groping and reaching into the air for something to attach to. They wrapped themselves around his legs, beginning to scorch and squelch the armor itself. Anub'arak took a few steps back, having a sense of caution.

"More… more…" He said, as the incantation was nearly complete. The tentacles were reaching higher now, as they began to grope his waist, leaving more scorch and burn marks. The ceramite metal was beginning to melt now, leaving molten drops of blue ceramite at his feet. He was so close…

And just as the spell was complete, Ahriman gasped. He felt a painful intrusion from behind, right in his chest. He looked down, to see an icy runeblade straight through his chest. His fingers twitched, as his staff fell out of his hands, and rolled away.

" **Did you really think you had control?** " The Lich King asked slowly, as it yanked out the runeblade from Ahriman's chest, and slowly walked around, until he was right over him.

" **You never did.** " The Lich King sneered, as he turned around to see the massive pile of corpses move, revealing a massive army of warp enhanced undead. Mutations quickly began to take form, as they changed and morphed in front of them. Mouths full of razor sharp teeth, fleshy bioweapons morphing from their arms, sacks of poison ripping and mutating their form.

" **Frostmourne hungers.** " The Lich King said, as he stepped to the side of Ahriman, and swung his sword down, decapitating Ahriman. Ahriman's last moments were filled with agony,as his head was separated from his neck. Blood pooled out, as his head rolled down the stairs, the unwieldy helmet making it skip several steps, before it clattered to the ground. Ahriman was dead, and now was just another soul trapped within the runeblade.

The Lich King smiled, as he looked upon his new army. They would serve him well.

"My king… the chaos forces still march to the palace." Anub'arak grumbled. The Lich King smiled.

" **Then we will sally forth, and intercept them.** " He stated. Anub'arak looked at him for a few moments.

"The demon's power is great. I can feel it. We could not hope to defeat them alone." He grumbled. The Lich King paused.

" **Perhaps we cannot. But we can manipulate it to work in our advantage**." He declared. Anub'arak took a moment to realize what he was talking about.

"But how my lord?" Anub'arak asked. The Lich King smiled.

" **I have an idea…** "

/

Klaus put down a his pair of cards, sliding it forward.

"Straight. I win." Klaus stated. Bluddflagg growled, pushing his pot of pebbles forward.

"Gork dammit. I swear your a cheat half the time." Bluddflagg growled.

"Yes Bluddflagg. You made that abundantly clear when you made me take off my entire greatcoat." He replied, rubbing his hands together. He paused, as he put his starting bet forward

"In the middle of winter." He added. Bluddflagg chuckled, scratching his face.

"Well, if yoo were a cheat, you wuldnt have to worry bout da seasons, but how shallow yoo want yer grave." He threatened, as he took his two cards, and looked at them, before putting them back on the ground. He gestured to the deck. Klaus grabbed a card, and put it on the ground. Queen of Hearts. Klaus didn't really know why Bluddflagg had a deck of playing cards, but he did, so he didn't mind playing some poker.

"Call." Klaus grumbled, taking some of his pebbles, and sliding it forward. Bluddflagg smirked, clearly confident. Klaus sighed. Bluddflagg had a horrible poker face. He wondered half the time if Bluddflagg was letting him win, but so far it was rather close. Bluddflagg was dominating him at first, but Klaus was gaining ground now. The chips were pebbles, since Bluddflagg didn't seem to carry those on him. Klaus took another card, and put it down. Ace of hearts. Klaus glanced at his own cards, and smiled. This was going to go well for him. Bluddflagg looked at his hand again, and grinned, showing off a gnarly collection of bone white fangs and incisors. The tusks at the bottom of his jaw moved with the action. Klaus didn't actually notice this before, but Bluddflagg had a golden tusk. That must fetch quite a bit.

"Call." He said, taking another group of pebbles, and shoving it forward.

"All in…" Bluddflagg growled sinisterly, shoving his pile forward. Klaus raised an eyebrow, before he smirked. If the greenskin wanted to play like this, then Klaus would entertain him.

"All in." He replied, shoving his pile forward. Klaus grabbed the last card, and put it down. A king of hearts.

Bluddflagg hooted, throwing his pair of cards down. An ace of clubs, and a ten of diamonds. A straight. Not bad.

Klaus then chuckled, as he flipped his cards. A three of hearts, and a seven of hearts.

"Flush. I win this one." Klaus smiled. Bluddflagg snarled, shoving the massive pile of pebbles with his powa klaw.

"I swear ya cheat." Bluddflagg growled. Klaus smiled.

"The emperor is on my side." He simply said. Bluddflagg snorted.

"And he's a twat." He growled. Normally, Klaus would have eviscerated the greenskin for even saying such a thing, but strangely he didn't even feel annoyed. Of course, their was the moment of realization and a quick pang of anger, but it quickly dissipated. For the first time in awhile, Klaus was… happy. Why, he didn't know. His problems were away for now, and he was having a friendly game of poker.

The entire board was cleared though, the second Klaus saw three figures running at him. Two were expected, but one surprised him.

"Legion?" He said in surprise, as they were all running from separate directions. Lofn coming from the east, the Necron from the south, and Legion from the west. They all reached them at the same time. Klaus and Bluddflagg looked at each other, then at the others.

"Uh… wots dis about?" Bluddflagg asked. They all sighed, before they said it at the same time.

"Chaos." They all said. They were all silent for a few minutes.

"Jinx. Y'all owe me a beer." Bluddflagg proclaimed, chuckling lightly.

"What do you mean 'Chaos'?" Klaus asked slowly. Legion sighed.

"A daemonic legion marches to the citadel. Their mere existence spells doom for this world." Legion explained. Klaus took some time to process this.

"So now what?" He said, after an agonizingly long minute.

"We should unite the local population to fight them off." The Necron suggested.

"Their petty squabbles run deep. I doubt they would ally themselves for long." Lofn replied.

"Perhaps, but if they do not, then this world will be destroyed, and will have catastrophic consequences." Legion grumbled. They were all silent, thinking.

"I have an idea." Klaus stated. The other four looked at him.

"Speak it." The Necron replied. Klaus cleared his throat.

"We know that the kingdoms here are not very fond of each other. So what if we all invite them to an event, a meeting if you will. Then once there, we reveal the chaotic threat. Both them and the scourge are dangerous, but if we allow them to fight each other, and then allow the denizens of this planet to clean up the mess." Klaus suggested.

"Nothing allies enemies more than a common foe…" The Necron grumbled.

"But how we will unite them, is the important part." Legion said. They were quiet for a few moments.

"Its simple really. We show them what we are dealing with. The night elves already know how bad they can be. Once we have some of them rooting for us, it shouldn't take long before the others would follow." He added on.

"But how da hell are we gunna get to each and every single un of dem?" Bluddflagg asked. "I mean, we are on da zoggin wrong continent as dey are." He added on.

"I can handle this." Legion stated.

"I'll come too." Lofn added. Legion glanced at her, and nodded.

"Very well then. I suggest we split up." Legion suggested.

"Bluddflagg and Klaus, you will take this to the argent crusade. Try to get them to vouch for us." Legion ordered, before looking down at Lofn.

"Me and Lofn will try to find their leaders, and try to bring them to Northrend." He added on, before he looked at the Necron Lord.

"Necron, you will try to sabotage the chaos operations as much as possible." He commanded. Klaus raised an eyebrow. Necrons were not known for stealth. However, he seemed fine with it, and nodded.

"Very well then." he simply said. They began to separate. Klaus and Bluddflagg began to sulk off, while Legion put his hand on Lofn's shoulder, and disappeared in a bath of flame, while the Necron slammed his staff into the ground, disappearing in a green mist.

"So humie, looks like da end is kumin. Can ya feel it?" Bluddflagg asked, chuckling lightly. Klaus tapped his fingers against the pommel of his power sword instinctively.

"Yes. Yes I can." He said softly. Perhaps he would be seeing her sooner than he thought…

/

Legion and Lofn emerged from the warp, coated in red flame. Legion shook it off like water. It dripped down his armor in fiery red drops of embers, that burned and sizzled drops on the ground.

"Where are we?" She asked, looking around. Legion glanced at her, his blood red eye lenses giving her a good long stare.

"Theramore." He simply said, as he waved his hand. A sheen of red energy coated both of them. It absorbed into their skin, turning her skin and his armor a faint shade of red.

"What did you do?" She demanded, looking at her skin in panic.

"Relax. We are currently invisible to the naked eye. Only psykers will be able to see us. Even then, they will only get glimpses." Legion explained slowly. Lofn looked at him slowly, before she nodded.

"Very well. Let's go find Jaina." Legion said, nudging towards the city in the background.

"Well lets go." Lofn said. Legion nodded. Instead of merely teleporting, like she expected, he instead began to walk forward.

"Come on! We dont have time to waste." Lofn snapped. Legion glanced at her, and waved her forward. She sighed, as the two began to walk at a brisk pace towards the gates of Theramore.

"I want to talk to you about Klaus." Legion started. Lofn sighed. She knew it would come to this.

"Fine. Go." She growled. Legion chuckled. Ghastly laughter leaving

"No need to be defend yourself. I am merely curious." Legion replied. She gave him a wary stare, before she sighed.

"Alright then… what do you want to know?" She asked slowly, still being weary. Legion cracked his knuckles.

"If the Necron did not interfere, do you think it would be possible?" Legion asked. Lofn paused, fearfully glancing up at him.

"I said relax. If I was going to harm you… well you would have been dead by now." Legion said soothingly. Of course, this didn't help.

"Thanks a lot." she said sarcastically. Legion scoffed, making a gesture on his chest as if he was fixing a tie.

"You are welcome." He said politely, before he dropped the facade. "Now answer the question."

"Perhaps. He was lightening up to me before, but it probably would have taken time… and besides, how do you know about the Necron and whatever he did?" Lofn demanded. Legion sighed.

"I dont think you understand the concept of' 'Imkindofeverywhereatonceseeallknowallhearall'." He replied firmly.

"Well fine, I have a question for you. What even are you?" She asked. Legion was about to reply, when he accidentally phase through a wall. He backed out, realizing he had accidentally walked into the fortress.

"Hm. It appears that I have phased into the castle." Legion pointed out. Lofn chuckled.

"No really?" She replied. Legion took a few steps back, and walked through the gates. Lofn followed.

"So how exactly were you made?" She asked. Legion glanced at her, and sighed.

"It is not easy to explain. In fact, it is nearly impossible. It was painful. Gruelling. Agonizing. However, in these dark times, such things are necessary in order to save mankind." He grumbled. Lofn raised an eyebrow.

"How is the Imperium in danger? It is by far, the largest empire in the galaxy!" She shouted. Legion glanced at her.

'It is the largest empire in the galaxy, and without us, you would have died long ago. Think about it. The Tau, Eldar and any other civilizations would have died out a long time ago without us. Despite my hatred for it, we are the barrier that stems the flood of chaos, anarchy, and barbarism from overwhelming the galaxy. Without us, there would not be a galaxy, but a mass grave." He grumbled. He paused for a few moments, letting a group of servants phase through his body, before he continued walking.

"However, like any wall, it has its flaws. Unfortunately, the Imperium never learns. It is stretched too far, supply lines to thin. For every planet we conquer, we lose an entire solar system. It does not help that the government state of the Imperium is flawed." He added on.

"Corruption causes havoc with the system. Inquisitors at each other's throats, Cardinals shouting and arguing who has the strongest faith, and adeptus administratum destroying planets that are just short of their tithe. The Imperium of Man unfortunately, has betrayed what it had been established on. It needs to be reformed into something better. What my father had believed in the first place." He added, before he paused. Lofn gave him a curious glance.

"Your father?" She asked in confusion. Legion glanced at her.

"You weren't supposed to hear that." He growled, as they stopped walking. Lofn could hear the familiar voice of Jaina Proudmoore from within her personal chambers.

"Isn't this a bit… rude?" She asked. Legion shook his head, as he phased through the door. He came back a few seconds later.

"Let's uh… let's wait a bit, shall we?" He said softly, almost as if he had seen something he wished he hadn't seen.

"What did you see?" Lofn asked. Legion glanced at her, and sighed.

"Something I REALLY wish I didn't see." He mumbled quietly. He looked at his fingers, and shivered.

/

Within the dark and decrepit tunnels of the Undercity, something stirred. The ruined ciy of Lordaeron had quite a basement in simpler terms. With hundreds of rooms and hallways, getting lost was quite a possibility, the only company being the green fluid that traced the halls, and the decrepit and plague ridden vermin that freely scurried around these halls. With one of the chambers was a low groaning sound, and the sound of chains rattling, and blood dripping. It was a constant melody of pain and suffering, a song that spared no punches.

Mista Nailbrain sat there, slowing singing to himself. He was a shell of his former self. His skin had turned an incredibly light green, scars and holes completely covering his skin like a second layer of cells. They did experiments on him. And they wouldn't stop. In Front of him were a massive pile of blueprints. Blueprints that he was forced to draw and design. His hand had developed infected pustules, large pockets of disgusting fluid that had infested his writing hand. He thought he was unclean before, but no amount of never taking a shower could live up to this. He heaved, his sunken chest expanding slightly before it sank back into his malnourished form.

"Lookin down the barrel of a gu-" Mista Nailbrain sang slowly, before he was interrupted by an extremely violent coughing fit, one that wracked and warped his body. Several recent scars opened up, causing a new dribble of blood to escape his body. He looked around with his one organic eye. They ripped out the cybernetic one. The chamber was incredibly dark, the only source of light being two torches in the far corners of the room. He coughed again, hacking out a combination of phlegm, blood, and saliva.

"Gruntin at each uvva…" He whispered, as he heard footsteps. They were coming for him again. Perhaps for him to build their war machines. He tried to crawl away as far as possible from the door, but the myriad of chains that bound him in the center of the room kept him from doing so. The door rattled, as it was slowly pushed open. Mista Nailbrain looked up to see who it was.

It certainly wasn't a pasty git. It was a tall humanoid figure, dressed in entirely in a dark grey bodysuit. A blood red visor glared at him. Various bits of ammunition and other gear clung to its body. Mista Nailbrain recognized, at least what it was.

"A Vindy…" He mumbled in realization.

"Yes." The Vindicare said. It looked at him for a few moments, before he pulled out a long pistol, and held it right to the base of his skull.

"I have come to kill you." He simply said. Mista Nailbrain weakly smiled.

"Finally… Sum… sum good news…" He mumbled, before he coughed again, wheezing violently.

"What have they done to you?" He asked politely. Mista Nailbrain coughed, before he looked up at him with his only eye.

"Ya dont… ya dont want ta know." He mumbled. He glanced at the Vindicare, and nudged towards the door.

"Dey are kumin ya know. Dey always get ere at da same toime… so ya better want ta hurry dis up." He grumbled. The Vindicare tilted his head to the side slightly.

"Any requests?" He asked. Mista Nailbrain looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"Burn my body. Burn everything in dis room. Burn it till there's nuffin but ash, and den some." Mista Nailbrain demanded, before he coughed again. The Vindicare nodded.

"Very well." He said. Mista Nailbrain smiled, and closed his eyes. He felt the muzzle of the gun against his skull. As the Vindicare pulled the trigger, Mista Nailbrain could feel himself free from the shackles. He floated into the air and away from the planet, and into the warp.

Finally, he could feel his essence back where it belonged. He felt the radius of Gork and Mork like radiation. However, he paused when he realized that he was alone. No one to drink with, no one to fight.

"Mista Nailbrain? Is dat yoo?!" A familiar voice called. Mista Nailbrain turned around and smiled.

"Spookums!" He shouted. The two orks ran to each other and tackled each other, hugging and violently crushing each other at the same time. They embraced each other for several moments, before they broke up.

"Wheres… wheres da kaptin?" Mista Nailbrain asked. Spookums nudged downwards.

"Deyz still down there… but don't worry. He'll be here soon." Spookums said. The two orks cheered together. At last, they were no longer alone.

Two main characters dead in one chapter? Heresy!


	62. Chapter 62: Upon the Pillars of Morality

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here!

Here is a new chapter

I hope you guys can enjoy!

(Hippity Hoppity, Get off of my property)

Klaus sharpened his power sword, before testing its weight in his hand. It felt balanced in his weight. Which was good, as he swung his power sword down, cutting the chaotic creature down nearly in half. Disgusting black blood flowed out, as the chaotic creature fell into nearly two pieces. Klaus ducked underneath a rusty sword, and swung his sword at the beast.

What could possibly be a troll, parried the blow, and slashed again. Klaus dodged the blow, as he kicked out with his prosthetic, breaking the trolls knee. It let out a growl of pain, as it looked at it's now bent inward leg, before up at Klaus. Klaus had already shoved his blade into the he trolls throat, and sliced it upward. The powerfield easily cut through flesh, bone and muscle, cauterising the wound nearly instantaneously. Finally, Klaus brought it up to the trolls skull, and yanked it outward, sending the troll tumbling to the ground. Klaus wasn't done though, as gave the troll another savage kick with his prosthetic, right into the cavity he had filled into its head. His boot broke through the soft cauterised flesh, and carved its way into the back of his skull. Klaus ripped out his boot, shaking it of disgusting brain matter.

He didn't have too much to celebrate though, as a bolt of purple energy was flown his way. Doombolts.

Klaus rolled out of the way, the costic warp energy slamming into the ground just a few feet away. Oh how this felt familiar…

He ran toward the chaotic minion, swinging his power sword down, the amphibian like creature let out a squeal, holding up its crooked wooden staff.

Klaus wondered why it even tried, as the power sword cut through the sword, creating a ghastly slash on its chest. It tumbled to the ground, letting out a groan. Klaus came to its side, and put his boot on its head.

Klaus looked up, seeing Bluddflagg ripping apart what appeared to be another troll into two equal pieces, before he began to slam its body parts together.

"Lookadis humie! It's like playing da cymbals!" He hooted, as he violently smashed the bleeding body parts together. Klaus ignored Bluddflagg's solo for a moment, glancing at the creature.

"Where did you come from?" Klaus asked slowly. The creature let out a snarl, a guttural growl that came from its mutilated mouth.

"Wrong answer." He growled, as he began to put more pressure on his prosthetic. It let out a groan, as his boot suddenly caved in on its thin flesh and malnourished bone, crushing both. He kept pressing down, until the beast finally stopped squirming from underneath his foot, and let out a death rattle. Klaus yanked his foot out, shaking his boot of gore.

"More are coming." He growled, gesturing to the distant torches that were quickly closing in. Bluddflagg grinned, throwing the body parts to the ground. He hooted, as he grabbed his kustom shoota, shoved it in his mouth, while he grabbed a cartridge of ammunition, and shoved it into the weapon. He spat it out to his hand, catching it.

"We don't have da numbas. Let's make a foightin retreat." Bluddflagg growled. Klaus took that into consideration. They were walking through somewhat narrow pass, only ten feet in length. However, Klaus quickly noticed a problem. The path was blocked by a large pile of rocks. The blockade was roughly thirty feet away, and fighting against it would be dangerous.

"Dig it out. I'll try to hold them off." Klaus commanded. Bluddflagg glanced at the massive pile of rocks, and nodded. He shifted past the grenadier, and ran over to the boulders, and began to smoothen it out. Klaus grabbed a pair of bolter clips, putting one in his gun, while he put the other in his pocket. He slapped the underside of the bolter, and pulled back the firing pin.

"For chaos!" He heard one of the creature's roar, as the first few got into view. They seemed to be what remained of the local inhabitants, wild and savage creatures. Of course, their barbarism was only strengthened tenfold when they sold their souls to the ruinous powers. And their was only one way to deal with them.

Klaus pulled the trigger, releasing a bolt shell. It propelled itself forward, the warhead slamming into the beast's eye. It exploded, making part of its skull paint the walls of the pass, while the body tumbled down, tripping one of their comrades. Klaus pulled the trigger again, killing another of the chaotic beasts. More and more were streaming in. Perhaps twenty of them, so Klaus instead began to fire in short bursts. The walls of the cavern helped him substantially, by greatly reducing the chances of him missing. Klaus killed another pair of the chaotic warriors, knowing that if they got into melee, there was a very real chance he would not make it out in one piece. He kept firing, never letting the odds get to him. A pull of the trigger. A cultist was sent tumbling to the ground, the shreds of its intestines flowing out like the river styx. A pull of the trigger. A follower of chaos slammed backwards, knocking back several of its friends, spilling blood all over them from the profusely bleeding stump. A pull of the trigger, a chaotic follower was sent screaming backwards, no longer having part of its arm. Klaus finished it off with another headshot, making its body fall.

"Hurry up!" Klaus demanded, killing another cultist. There were thirteen of them, and only twenty meters ahead of them. Klaus continued to fire in disciplined bursts, closing that number to ten. However, Klaus knew that it was time to fight hand to hand and sword to sword. He shoved the bolter onto his back, and pulled out his power sword. He held it in a guard stance, despite it being rather short for that kind of fighting style.

"Come and get it!" He shouted, as he charged forward. The followers of chaos paused slightly. It certainly must have been a sight. A human charging forward, with gold and black armor over a greatcoat, the blood of the slain splattered on various parts, a screaming white skull with red flames pouring out of their sockets, coming straight at them like a daemon from hell. It was their mistake, and his gain.

Klaus jumped up, holding the sword over his head, as he slammed down onto the bulkiest of the bunch, a troll. It let out a howl, as the blade made a deep cut down its chest, from its collarbone to its hip. Klaus shoved the blade into its stomach, making the troll drop its pair of axes. The axes clattered to the floor, followed by a decapitated corpse.

The stunned minions shook themselves out of their trance, and let out a bloodthirsty howl, as several of them charged forward. Klaus took a few steps back, giving himself some space. He was fighting in dangerous territory however, as he stepped over and sometimes on the corpses of the slain. If he were to trip, he would die.

Klaus parried a devastating blow from a club made of bone and leather, the strength of which made him buckle down, another swing of that club sent him sprawling backwards, right into the bloody ground. Klaus rolled over, as therine like creature howled, slamming the club down again. Klaus rolled to the side, as the club smashed down into the ground. With his power sword, he horizontally slashed at the beasts, cutting it off at the forearm. It howled, as it reeled back, only for Klaus to shove it it backwards with a kick. It skittered back, only for another creature to come forward, eager to take its place. Klaus pulled himself up, as a thrust with a spear forced him back. Now he was in an awkward position. The spears length, along with the other chaotic creatures that stood by its side made it impossible to flank. And with his swords rather short striking distance, Klaus had no choice to slowly but surely give up ground. He looked for an opportunity to slice the spear in half with his power sword, but the creature that held it seemed to be semi smart, by not offering such an opportunity in the first place.

"Hurry up greenskin!" Klaus shouted, as one of the chaotic creatures rushed forward, its bloodlust impossible to control. It shoved its blade forward in a stabbing position, trying to get under his guard. Klaus instead shuffled to the side, and caught the blade between his arm and his armpit. It let out a grunt of surprise, as he yanked the chaotic beast forward. He snatched it by the neck, and snapped its neck with a violent twist of his arm. It let out a rattle, as its body slumped considerably, its spine now partially broken. Klaus shoved the body forward, right onto the polearm that continually forced him back. It let out a roar of rage, as the body of its fallen comrade fell right onto the wooden shaft, breaking the barbed and sharp tip. It threw down what was left of its spear in rage, and charged blindly forward. Klaus was about to thrust his blade right into its lungs, when he was violently shoved aside. The breath was knocked out of his body, along with a sharp clang, his helmet slamming against the rock wall.

Bluddflagg snatched one of the creatures, and smashed it against the walls. He continually did so, until nothing was left of its head and upper torso but a red blot. He then threw the body at the creatures that still lived, which their were very few off. One tried to attack him with what appeared to be a fishing spear, but Bluddflagg merely snatched the creature effortlessly, and proceeded to bite off its head. The sickening sound of flesh tearing and the screams that quickly followed, only to be silenced by the sound of munching was the stuff straight out of nightmares, as he threw the body down.

"COME ON YA GITS! FOIGHT!" Bluddflagg roared, as he snatched the last two beasts. One he threw to the ground, only to smash his foot down so violently that his entire foot went through its frail body, making a bright red footprint on the rocky ground. He tossed that body aside, as he looked at the beast in his powa klaw, that struggled valiantly.

"Hey humie. Watch dis!" Bluddflagg grinned, followed by a little bit of chuckling, as he chucked the beast to his other hand. He grabbed the body, and smashed it down into the ground. A sickening splat, followed by a burst of blood that covered nearly his entire face, and a bit on his back. He slammed it again. Klaus shuffled to the side to see that Bluddflagg had shoved the entire body into the ground, only leaving the head above ground. Bluddflagg took ten steps back, before he ran forward, and swung his foot. Of course, due to the size difference between his legs and the entire rest of his body, Bluddflagg slipped and fell with his kick, but with the sheer power of it, the head was ripped off of the body, and was sent into the stratosphere.

"HOOOOOME RUN!" Bluddflagg hooted, pumping his only remaining hand, before he wiped his face of blood. He shook it off, and offered his savage powa klaw. Klaus sighed, as he grabbed the tip of the diamantine sharp edge, and pulled himself up.

"Enjoying yourself?" Klaus asked. Bluddflagg grinned.

"Yeah. I guess yoo could say dat." The ork replied. He paused, before he spat out a red glob of blood, and wiped his tongue. Well, as much as he could, anyways, as his iron gob certainly presented problems.

"Nasty stuff." He grumbled to himself, before he nudged his head back to where the boulders were.

"Pass is klear. Let's move." Bluddflagg grumbled. Klaus nodded.

"Right." He said. The two of them began to walk forward down the pass.

"Do you even remember where we're going? At least, the direction?" Klaus asked, not entirely sure himself. Bluddflagg smiled, tapping his skull, right next to his fiery eye.

"Course I do. I got a memory loike an elephant." He grinned. Klaus paused.

"How do you know what an elephant is?" He asked. Bluddflagg sighed, rubbing his face.

"I knew an ork. Crazy bastard he was. We had a business deal togevva. Didn't wurk out so well." Bluddflagg grumbled. Klaus decided he wouldn't push it any forward. He looked upwards, having the feeling he was being watched. He thought he saw a faint shimmer from above. He shook his head. Just paranoia, he told himself.

What wasn't paranoia, was perhaps the fact that he could hear more coming from behind. They were following him.

"Lets start running, shall we?" Klaus asked, as he began to quickly began to pick up the pace.

/

Vo'ndrath surveyed the scout leader with an analytical eye. The corrupted Wolvar breathed heavily, clenching his stump of an arm. It had stopped bleeding a long time ago, a thin layer of translucent tissue covering the stump. He snorted, glancing back at the scout leader.

"Where is your pack?" He demanded. The scout leader, shuffled slightly.

"Dead, my lord." It grumbled. Vo'ndrath sighed, rubbing his ever morphing and changing face. Even his fingerprints and hands moved, to the point that after a few moments, his hand was in a different location then it was to begin with. He glanced at the two Chaos Space Marines, who stood by his side.

"Dispose of this cretin." He said casually, giving him a quick wave. One of the chaos space marines chuckled, while the other cracked his neck, as they both got their hands on the pleading wolvar, and began to drag him away from Vo'ndrath's secluded spot. He sighed rubbing his face again.

"YOU SEEM CONCERNED." U'zuhl growled, though he was more interested of the chaos space marines who were savagely beating the wolvar.

"No. Disappointed." Vo'ndrath replied, giving a weighty sigh. The executioner of Khorne turned to face the horror, a confused look on his face.

"I DON'T UNDERSTAND." He snarled.

"There is an Imperial on this planet." Vo'ndrath began, as he opened up his great tome, skimming through tens of thousands of pages per second.

"One who shows great potential for servitude. One who could be a powerful servant." He explained, as he finally stopped. The horror's malformed face stretched back, making what appeared to be a smile, as he finally spoke again.

"A Guardsman, from the Death Korps of Krieg." He added on. To this U'zuhl growled.

"THEY ARE THE MOST LOYAL TO THEIR CORPSE EMPEROR. TRAINED FROM BIRTH. THEY ARE INCORRUPTIBLE." U'zuhl growled, glancing back at Vo'ndrath, before he gazed back to the Chaos Space Marines, who had long since brutalised the Wolvar corpse.

"Horus thought he was incorruptible." Vo'ndrath countered, as he began to pace around, as he peered into his great tome.

"The primarchs thought they were incorruptible. They are far from it. The pillar upon which a mortal stands, no matter how strong, thick and stable, is only a pillar. A pillar is created to fall, and to shatter when it does so. No mortal is incorruptible." He added on. Vo'ndrath hissed in rage, as he kept reading through the book. Finally, he slammed it closed, putting it back on the unholy chains that bound the artifact to his neck.

"If this so called… 'Klaus'... thinks that he is the example of a bastion of faith, then I will tear down his fortress, block by block." He growled, as he turned back to U'zuhl

"I will vaporize the mortar that holds his walls. I will cut the rope that secures his gate. I will break down the door that keeps him safe from corruption. I will defile the throne that he so happily sits on, and I will show him the truth!" He proclaimed. He rubbed his hands together, and snickered slightly.

"That all of this time, that he was played for a fool, and was nothing but a marionette on a string. He would be lucky. Most have to live with their mistakes, but he will die from them." He hissed, chuckling lightly. U'zuhl gave him a stare.

"YOU WILL NOT PUT A HAND ON HIM, UNTIL I DECIDE IF HE IS A WORTHY OPPONENT FOR MY SKILL. I LONG FOR A REAL FIGHT." He growled. However, they were interrupted, as a chaos space marine ran up to the secluded cliffside they resided.

"My lords. The undead have breached the perimeter of our camps. Their ranks reach the tens of thousands." He reported. Vo'ndrath glanced at U'zuhl.

"I still must cement the bonds to our masters. Regardless of their power, they still trickle back into the warp." He growled, he took a few steps back, and clinked his staff onto the ground.

"Dispose of them." He growled, as he disappeared in a trail of purple energy. Skulltaker grinned savagely, slowly waving his hellblade around.

"PREPARE… FOR BATTLE!"

/

Jaina looked between Lofn the fair faced half elf, and then at the black, towering monstrosity that stood by her side, red flames flicking off of its figure and gently cascading down to the ground. She clenched her staff so hard that she was pretty sure her fingers had gone white, the blood completely drained from her skin.

"Explain this to me again. Slowly." She said warily, glancing at the demonic creature that stood by her side. It sighed, and stepped back.

"Very well then. Let me explain." The thing said, before it sighed, giving her a nasty look with its blood red eyes.

"Again." He added on a couple of seconds later. He paused, flicking a few flames off of his shoulder.

"Perhaps visuals will help get the message across." It growled. It glanced at Lofn, who was curiously glancing at some of her possessions.

"Lofn, I suggest you may leave. Things may get graphic." He grumbled. Lofn took its advice, and swiftly left, closing the doors behind her.

"I have many names, but you may call me Legion. Your world is in grave, grave danger." Legion said slowly. Jaina gave him a furious look, as she rose up, and came forward.

"Who do you think you are if you can barge into my palace and t-" She said, before Legion grabbed her head with his armored gauntlet. Her eyes widened in surprise, as a quick corona of flame covered her eyes.

She disappeared entirely, instead reappearing in a black room. It was incredibly dark, yet she could see herself perfectly clear.

"What sorcery is this?" She demanded. It was quiet. Only for a moment though.

"No sorcery involved. I am merely showing a memory of mine, and transmitting it to you." Legion said, though he did not yet reveal himself.

"Why?" She asked. It was a rather good question. One that she would prefer if she knew the answer.

"Simple. To prevent the death and enslavement of your world, and the destruction of ours." Legion replied. The environment began to change and warp around them. The blackness around them morphed and shook, as finally, it showed a picture.

Jaina looked around, and realized in shock where they were. They were in space. How was she standing? How was she breathing? How… how did she get here?

"Look." Legion demanded. Jaina looked up, and followed his glare.

It was a long line of planets, all surrounding a single sun. He was pointing to one in particular. A planet that shined with deep gold and blazing silver. It was… beautiful.

"Holy Terra. The birthplace of humanity in our realm. The cradle of the largest empire we had ever seen." Legion explained slowly. They both stared at it for a long time, one in awe, while the other was merely waiting.

"It is from here that the Imperium of Man began. The conquering of the Techno Barbarians. The formation of the Imperium under my father's rule. The Great Crusades. At the height of this was his most favored son. Horus Lupercal. Primarch, of the Luna Wolves." He added on.

"Why do you say favored? What happened to him?" Jaina asked. He looked at her gravely, and with a sad sigh, he replied.

"Simple. He betrayed us." He grumbled, swiping his hand.

The scenery changed entirely. First, they had touched the ground. Second, the scenery around them was massive. Gone was floating in space, but instead they were now within a massive city. She barely breathed, as buildings that reached so far beyond sight that she could not even see the top of them. And they were wrecked. Utterly. The sky had turned blood red, and in the skies, massive ships duking it out, shooting bright beams and lances of energy.

In the distance, she saw two massive behemoths battling it out. Massive titans, that reached hundreds of feet tall. They shot at each other with mind boggling weaponry, one shooting out bright lances of red energy, while the other shot continuous streams of golden streaks of fire. Their ranged weapons did nothing, as they merely splashed onto bright blue domes of mystic energy.

"The siege of Terra. Horus led his traitor forces here, and decimated the defences. The Imperial Army. The Legions. The Custodes. Nothing could stop their advance. For every traitor we killed, another five took their place." Legion growled. One of the titans collapsed, falling to its knees, when another blast to the head of the warmachine sent it to the ground with a thump so powerful, Jaina could feel it from where she stood.

"It was only from my father's sacrifice, that we still remain. The forces of chaos were pushed back. We had won, but at a grave cost…" He grumbled. They roamed the ruined streets and spanning skyline, seeing the mass graves of hundreds of both loyalists and traitors.

"Who… who is your father?" She asked. He chuckled slightly, smiling audibly.

"Only a single part of me is from his bloodline. Who else, but the Emperor of Mankind." He simply said. She was puzzled.

"Regardless, I offer you a choice. A choice to either save your world, or let it fall into oblivion. I require your full, cooperation. But ultimately, the choice is yours." Legion said, as they instantly reappeared back in her private quarters. She looked around for a few moments, still confused. It was still her room. Her bed. Her cabinet, her drawers. It was all still there.

"Then I have no choice but to cooperate. I can't let the world fall like this." She said with confidence. Legion nodded.

"It is good that we see eye to eye then." He simply said.

"What do you need me to do?" She asked. Legion shuffled.

"You are known for your diplomatic skills and quick wit. To defeat the armies of chaos, I need cooperation from every major race Azeroth has to offer." He stated. She paused.

"I can try, but I don't think I will be able to do it complet-"

"If you need assistance, that is not a problem. I will be happy to… _encourage_ … them to join the cause." Legion grumbled, putting special emphasis on encourage. She nodded.

"Some help would be appreciated. What about your friend?" She asked, nudging back to the door.

"Already taken care of. I suggest that you mobilise the armies you have at your command." Legion grumbled.

"I can't do that. War was officially declared a while ago." She said firmly. Legion chuckled.

"War, hmm? I can end this war…"

Also sheesh you people... You think Ahrimans dead? Dont put him out of the game just yet...


	63. Chapter 63: Memories of Old III

**Hey Guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.**

 **So here is a new chapter.**

 **I'm going to make a April Fools special (as In, an actual chapter)**

 **However, its going to be like a week late.**

 **Anyways, Enjoy!**

Klaus slammed the pommel of his sword in the chaos beasts skull, getting a splurt of blood and a broken tooth for his persistence. The beast stumbled back, grabbing its now ruined face, dropping the pair of crooked rusted blades it had for weapons. Klaus charged forward, shoving his blade into its exposed chest, as he kept pushing until his blade struck deep into the stone walls of the passage. These bastards weren't letting up. He twisted it, before he yanked it out, and grabbed the body. A half of javelins came his way, impaling the corpse he used as a meat shield. He threw the body aside, quickly taking out his bolter. He still had that crossbow Bluddflagg had given to him as a gift, but he still didn't know how to operate it. Regardless, if push came to shove, he supposed he could do it.

He fired a quick burst, downing two of the skirmishers, before the other remaining pair could duck back behind the walls of the cavern. These bastards still weren't letting up. It had only been two hours since they had first encountered the chaotic beasts, yet more were coming. It was as if they were pursuing him, but for what reason, he couldn't possibly fathom.

Bluddflagg charged forward, shoving Klaus aside. He pulled the trigger to his kustom shoota, releasing a hail of gunfire. Though wildly inaccurate, somehow one of the shots managed to kill one of the beasts, making it stumble to the ground, clenching a rather large hole in its neck, as if to staunch the flow of blood. The other quickly turned tail and ran, before a bolt round to the head nailed it right in the head, making it explode in a shower of gore.

Bluddflagg hooted, pumping his chest, smearing his coat with gore and entrails that still lingered from a botched vasectomy.

"Ha ha! Noice shot humie!" Bluddflagg grinned. Klaus however, was just as surprised. He looked down at his bolter, and gently took out the clip. It was empty. He couldn't have fired that shot. But if he didn't fire that shot… who did?  
"I didn't fire that…" He mumbled, looking back up. His eyes widened in shock, at the two figures that approached.

Both standing nearly seven feet tall, Klaus only had moments to realise what they were, before he immediately dove for cover, rolling over to hide behind a large rock. He couldn't believe it. Heretics. Traitors. The finest the emperor had to offer, who turned their backs on the holy lord and spat on their oaths. Chaos Space Marines.

The two chaos space marines opened fire, firing salvos of their bolters. Oily black smoke poured out of their ancient weapons as they continued to fire at him. Bolt shells flew overhead, detonating rather far away. Klaus's armor was dense, but certainly not dense enough to protect from that. Bluddflagg squealed in surprise, as he quickly ran into cover, several bolter rounds detonating on his armor. Shards of shrapnel dug into his greenskin.

"Coward! Face your fate and die, loyalist!" One of the chaos space marines boldly taunted, as they marched forward.

Klaus shoved a new clip of ammunition into his gun, pulling back the firing pin. Chaos space marines were deadly opponents, ones that Klaus had faced before. Often it took a couple squads of Guardsmen to take down a single chaos space marine, and even then that was never a guarantee. Faster, stronger, and far more durable than an average human, it took coordinated patterns of lasfire and tactics to take one down.

And here he was, alone. Pity the fool, he supposed.

Klaus sighed, as he peered over to the side, and began to return fire. He slid out from behind the boulder, firing. One bolt round smashed into the breastplate of a chaos space marine, one that he recognised as the Black Legion. Realizing that he was not so lightly armed, they hid into cover, and from a space position, returned fire. He ducked again, one bolt narrowly hitting his arm. It instead detonated right on the rock wall, getting bits of stone scattering to the ground. That was close. Perhaps, too close.

"Bluddflagg! Get them!" Klaus ordered, his patterns of gunfire keeping the chaos space marines suppressed, only for the moment though. Bluddflagg howled in anger, as he reappeared back into the open, charging right at the two chaos space marines. They began to open fire at the warboss. At that range, they could not miss, already considering his rather large frame. While some shots hit his armored shoulders and very small kneepads, other shells hit their mark. Large red craters began to appear on his chest, as he finally closed the distance into melee.

Bluddflagg snatched one of the chaos space marines, and hurled it behind him. The power armored giant was tossed dozens of feet away, colliding to the ground. He slid and rolled along the ground, until he was only inches away from Klaus. Klaus didn't think twice, and pointed his bolter right at the heretic, and opened fire. At this range, no amount of power armor could stop maximum armor penetration. A bolter shell lodged itself right into the chaos space marines red eye lense, causing an explosion of gore and armor and ceramite.

Bluddflagg growled, as he ripped the second chaos space marine in half, making it drop its accursed weaponry. He then threw it to the ground, and gave it a kick forward.

"Maybe make dis un squeal a lil. Find out why da chaos boyz are here." he growled, gesturing to the still breathing top half of the chaos space marine. Klaus groaned in disgust. He would rather not let the traitor live any longer than necessary, but he decided it would be rather useful information to know. He came forward, pointing the bolter right at the chaos space marines head.

"Where did you come from… traitor?" He demanded, keeping his gun pointed right at its head. The chaos space marine laughed gravely, as it turned his head right towards him. His twisted and malformed helmet was painted an insidious black, two blood red eye lenses glaring at him, several pairs of horns jutting out of the helmet.

"We have come… to BURN this world… lord Ka'bandha will revel in the slaughter…" he grumbled, before he began to laugh maniacally.

"Kill me, puppet! I cannot wait to revel in the dark god's majesty!" he shouted. Klaus chuckled himself.

"Gladly." He grumbled, as he pulled the trigger. The chaos space marine's insane joy was silenced. Permanently.

Klaus lowered his bolter, looking at the cordite cloud, before at the corpse.

"We are going to burn them." Klaus proclaimed, his voice shaky with anger and uncertainty. Bluddflagg glanced at the corpse, and grabbed it by the torso, holding it up. He looked at it hard, analyzing every feature of the chaos space marines body.

"So we got chaos boyz here huh?" He said aloud, slowly rotating it to get a good view. He chuckled. He then grinned, as he wrapped one paw around its accursed head, and yanked it off with a single pull. He shoved the head on a spike on his trophy rack, as he threw the body down, getting a clang of ceramite as a reward for his effort.

"Wuz gettin toired of fightin daemons. Dis shuld spice fings up." He grinned. Klaus didn't think too much of it, as Bluddflagg gave him some stolen alcohol and a lighter.

/

The kaldorei had seen better times. After the first chaos incursion in their capitol, they had quickly recovered from the physical wounds. However, the spiritual scars that were left behind were deep and heavy. They had faced an enemy that had no comparison in the sheer terror it released. While the Burning Legion was certainly lethal, they did not horrify them with complete brutality. Chaos or as the human had called it, 'The Ruinous Powers' certainly had left a mark. It had left such a mark that the Priestesses of the Moon had taken active roles in quelling out any roots of the chaotic corruption. Those found with an unholy markings or glyphs were immediately seized and imprisoned, never again allowed to leave. Brutal and cruel it was, but there unfortunately, was no other way. Tyrande had quickly learned that.

She was currently studying several maps, for the invasion of Northrend. She had heard from the settlements their that the forces of the undead had swelled to extremely dangerous numbers, seemingly out of nowhere. Suddenly everything was at stake, and she knew that if she even faltered for a moment, their wouldn't be a world left when this war was over. Only a corpse, one that was covered with millions of others.

Suddenly, she heard a noise from behind her. The soft sounds of bells, and the sound of a fiery inferno. She leaped out of her chair, firing an arrow from her quiver with the bow that was on her lap. The arrow traveled right into the blazing inferno, smashing right into an eery black shape that had formed within the blaze. It emerged from the blaze, holding the arrow in one of its hands. The shape was a hulking black monstrosity, with bloody red eyes staring right at her. It looked at the arrow for a few moments, before he dropped it.

"I do not come to harm you, Tyrande Whisperwind. Rather, We wish to speak to you." The figure simply said. It took a few steps back, as another figure emerged from the flaming torrent. Tyrande lowered her bow in sheer surprise.

"J… Jaina?" Tyrande asked in sheer confusion. Jaina Proudmoore sighed, smoothing out her purple robes, swatting a small piece of red flame that lingered on her hands.

"I know it's… it's confusing." She sighed, looking back up at the creature. It gave her a gesture, and took a few steps back.

"High priestess, you must listen to me. The Ruinous Powers are gathering in Northrend. The entire world is in danger." She stated. Tyrande froze at that moment, lowering her weapon completely.

"What do you mean?" She asked, her voice quickly filling with anger. The creature gave Jaina an odd look, before he took a few steps forward, and spoke in a whispery tone.

"She means that the forces of chaos have gathered in Northrend, and could destroy the world, or enslave the undead to their thrall. Either way, your world will be destroyed, unless we unite." It growled. Tyrande glanced at the creature, before back at Jaina.

"Then I will send everything I can. I will go myself, to purge this evil." She growled. Jaina and the creature both let out a grunt of surprise. They gave each other a shocked look, before the creature nodded.

"Very well then. We go to unite the rest of the leaders of the world. We expect you to be there…" It grumbled, as another fiery red portal opened. The two of them stepped through the inferno, with Jaina giving her a worried look, before they both disappeared.

/

Bluddflagg squinted, looking over the horizon pass. They stood on a small hill, and in the distance, they could see it. He sighed in relief, nearly collapsing in exhaustion.

"Its dere… dats… dats da tournie… I fink…" He heaved, as he took a few deep breaths. Klaus sighed, as he took a few steps forward, and fell to his knees. It was still a far distance away, but at least here they could actually get a glimpse of it in the distance. Klaus hadn't slept in days, and the combat and

"Fucking hell…" He gasped. The two sighed, as they tried to get their bearings and breath. They were completely unprepared for who was behind them.

"Hi guys." Lofn said cheerfully. The two of them turned around in an instant, both clearly surprised. Bluddflagg accidentally took several steps back, and slipped, rolling down the hill shouting in pain. Klaus didn't even have the energy to say much, seeing as they had basically had been running ever since they had split up, perhaps a day or two ago.

"How… how did you… get here?" Klaus asked warily, as he slowly pulled himself up. She sighed, gesturing to an area behind her.

"Legion dropped me off. Said he could handle diplomacy, and that he felt sad that you would be lonely." She said, in a teasing manner. Klaus gave her a look, and sighed.

"Go frakk yourself." He grumbled. She smiled, and gave him a quick hug, one that surprised him slightly. Suddenly, this wasn't as bad as the first time it happened, perhaps a month ago. He slowly put his arms around her, with a slight smile. She let go, and took a step back.

"It's almost over. Just hang in there, alright?" She asked. He sighed.

"I can manage. This isn't the most stressful thing I've been through." He replied.

"No, you deserve a break. I'm calling it in." She said firmly. Klaus gave her a look.

"Lofn, I don't think this would be the time for-"

"Nope. Tomorrow, you're getting physical treatment, and tea. My treat." She said firmly.

"Lofn please don-"

"Nope."

Klaus sighed again, as he sat down on the hill. Bluddflagg was still rolling down. Despite it being small, it was rather long, and the icy surface certainly didn't help the ork get any traction to try and slow down his steady roll.

Regardless, it seemed that Lofn wanted something from him. Again. Joy to the world, he supposed.

"Where the hell did you even get tea?" He asked harshly. She smiled, as she pulled out a large sack, filled with coins.

"Bought it." She said with a devious grin. Klaus took a few moments to realize what she meant, before he reached into his satchel, and realized that she had taken her wallet. More importantly, though, was that he was running low on ammunition. He only had four bolt clips left, including the five bullets that were currently in the clip. That… that was not good. He would have to rely more on his melee skill. Which was rather low, since now a days he just had been getting lucky. It was as if an unseen force

"You are quite the thief, aren't you?" He snorted, straightening himself out, as he began to slowly walk down the hill. He took his time, realizing that he was going to have to dig Bluddflagg out of the large pile of snow he had gotten himself trapped in. It was rather entertaining to see his short stubby legs kicking out of the snow pile, as he had basically been flipped upside down.

"I know someone. He taught me some tricks." She simply said with a quick grin.

"Didn't you say you were scared to leave your dwelling?" He asked, as they slowly walked down together. Klaus didn't realize that their arms were locked together. When he did though, he felt a small warmth on his cheeks. He didn't retract it.

"I was. But he came to us. He was a trader. I was surprised one of his kind had even managed to enter the webway to begin with." She said. Klaus raised an eye. He didn't know humans could enter the webway, and judging how she had worded this statement, it certainly wasn't her own kind.

"Who was it?" He asked. She chuckled to herself, a dainty pleasant sounding noise.

"An ork, believe it or not. I never caught his name, but he was nice. It was certainly a surprise." She grinned. He paused, before he sighed.

"You know, if you said this before, I would have killed you for you simply existing. Now, I just think you're crazy." He grumbled. She suddenly gave him a guilty look, before it disappeared. It was still noteworthy though. He continued to scale down the mountain, when he paused. He had a beautiful view of the sunset from here, a blazing corona of a variety of different colors, from a blazing crimson to a deep magenta and a fiery yellow. He paused for a few moments, simply admiring the view. He edged himself to a ledge that stuck out of the hill, and leaned back. Though he still had adrenaline coursing through his veins, he still could find time to unwind. Lofn stopped scaling down, and scooched right next to him. He made room for her to sit down, as he took out his sketch book.

"Did you have any… friends, from where you came from?" She asked softly, as she looked at him hard. He sighed slowly, as he flipped a few pages in his journal.

"Yes. Yes, I did. I wouldn't call her a… friend though." He said. She seemed interested, though it seemed painfully feigned. She didn't seem to be the best at lying.

"Her name was Karen. She was amazing. Though I didn't feel much back then, she was different." He began, preparing to delve deep back into his memory. He remembered her fondly.

"What was she like?" Lofn asked. Klaus smirked.

"She had a nice smile… was kind to our fellow brothers and sisters in arms… was a fanatic servant, to the point she put other sergeants to shame… Simply, the most perfect woman I had ever met…" He grinned.

"So you liked each other?" She asked. Klaus blushed slightly.

"No no… I never considered our relationship like that. I always considered her more as a… a best friend then anything else." He replied firmly, though they both noticed that he didn't sound confident.

"So she was a little… off the deep end you say? So how did you meet?" Lofn asked. Klaus smirked, clearly going back.

"We had met before, but the first time I truly found out what kind of person she was, was on our first joint campaign. When she joined our division. It was awhile ago. I nearly lost my life that day. By the emperor, it was nearly worth it.'" Klaus grinned, as he began to go back.

/

Klaus shot another round from his lasgun, a bright bolt of searing energy erupting from the steaming red hot barrel, plunging right into the exoskeleton of a Hormagaunt, who was busy trying to rip a Vostroyan who had been caught out of the trenches. The beam of light slammed into its head, the impact making it stumble backwards. The Vostroyan tried to crawl backwards, before a pair of scything talons erupted from the ground, impaling the Vostroyan in his knees. The guardsman was dragged screaming back into a hole into the ground.

"Grenade!" He shouted, as he yanked a frag grenade from his belt, pulled the pin and chucked it into the hole, around ten feet away. The small object clinked and rolled into the hole, where more Gaunts were streaming out. A primal screech was heard, before the grenade exploded, sending a shower of gore and body parts spewing out of the hole like steam out of a geyser. He ducked down back into the trench, taking out his empty powercell, and putting in a new one.

The Vostroyan Firstborn. Though Klaus viewed many other regiments as inferior, so far the Vostroyans seemed to be somewhat decent. He hadn't seen them desert yet, and they were still fighting against a foe that vastly outnumbered them.

Loading in a new powercell, he peaked up, as he and his squad of thirty grenadiers began to give covering fire to the battered first line of defense. The defenses of the outer city had fallen, and now the Vostroyan troopers that had held the first line of defense were being ordered to retreat. Klaus had been informed specifically NOT to shoot the retreating Vostroyans. At least, the ones who were coming towards their direction. With their retreat, the welcome guardsmen brought unwelcome guests. Xenos. Specifically, Tyranids.

Klaus had been temporarily put in charge, after Commissar 781243-907583 'Standhaft' had been killed in battle. Standhaft was a famed commissariat in the fifth siege regiment, who had met his unfortunate end from a stray deathspitter round to the face. His gasmask had melted off, along with a large portion of his skin, bone, and brain matter. His weapons strewn on the ground, a power sword and a rather unusual weapon. A volkite weapon. Though, as Klaus thought about it, he realized it necessarily wasn't that unusual. He had been in service for nearly five hundred years in previous regiments, though he had only served with the Death Korps for three years. Unfortunate as it was, Klaus knew that until reinforcements from the square garden could arrive, he would have to hold the plaza. He alone controlled the forces here. A squad of thirty grenadiers, a small part of another platoon of Death Korps Guardsmen around one hundred, and the battered remains of a Vostroyan Infantry platoon, with roughly sixty guardsmen left. All around, nearly two hundred. Barely enough to hold back the Tyranid swarm.

However, they were deploying in light numbers, as the bulk of the force was still trying finish off the outer defences. Yet again, light numbers of Tyranids, were still a frakk ton of them.

Dozens of tyranids swarmed through the open street every few seconds, coming in large groups. The organized firing pattern of the Death Korps cut a thick swathe through the swarming mass of saliva and chitin, while the ragged and unorganized bursts of fire coming from the Vostroyans tried to finish off the remains. The tyranids that made it through the initial firing line then had to make it through a thick line of razor wire. They were slowed down considerably, as they threw themselves onto the razor wire, trying to get to the line of guardsmen that were shooting their kin to pieces.

What Klaus was wondering, was where was the synapse creatures? Many Tyranids needed at least some to keep them from moving forward, otherwise, they were mindless beasts. However, the synapse creature had yet to show itself, which was a worrying prospect in it of itself.

"Sir! Permission to speak, sir!" A voice shouted from right next to him. Klaus ducked down, as a stream of devourer rounds passed overhead.

A grenadier looked at him, crouching down into the dry dirt, pushing several empty power cells. A grinning white skull looked at him, as the grenadier continued to peak up and open up with potshots with its hellgun.

"Identify yourself trooper!" Klaus shouted. The grenadier ducked down, as the sound of artillery was heard in the distance. It seemed that the Basilisk batteries had began to open up.

"435612-983610, sir!" She shouted. Klaus's lip twitched upward slightly. It was her again, 435612.

"Speak away Grenadier!" Klaus shouted, as another hole in the ground was opened several meters away. The ravener that had opened the tunnel let out a quick hiss, as it submerged back into the ground, dodging several bursts of las fire. More lesser tyranids began to swarm out, Hormagaunts, Termagants mostly.

"Flamer!" Klaus bellowed. Two Guardsmen ran to his aid, bringing their flamers to bear on the pothole. They pressed the trigger at the same time, releasing two fiery streams of promethium, that set the tyranids alight. They screamed in agony, as the tyranids wildly ran around, swatting at their burning bodies. They continued to hold down the trigger, lighting up this part of the trench with a soft red glow.

"Intel says that a much larger wave of Tyranids are approaching sir! I suggest that we set up our heavy weapons, sir!" 435612-983610 shouted. Klaus nodded, as he peaked up to fire another shot with his lasgun.

"What heavy weapons do we have at our command, grenadier?" Klaus demanded, as he ducked back down. The guardsmen with flamers went back into the trench, stowing away their flamers for lasguns.

"Three heavy bolters, two autocannons, and two missile launchers, sir!" She shouted. Klaus nodded.

"Set them up!" He shouted. She nodded, as she pulled out short distance vox, and began to relay her orders.

"Hold the line you bastards! Our deaths will please the emperor for our sins!" Klaus shouted, though he knew that his men would not break. The Vostroyans, were a completely different story. However, their corporal seemed to be doing well in keeping the redcoats from routing. Klaus didn't know if the corporal would have the guts to shoot his own men. Klaus however, had no such problems.

"Sir, the crews report that the recent rainfall has made the heavy weapons stuck in the mud! They will need time to dig them out!" She shouted. Klaus could hear and feel the sensation of thumping underneath him.

"We need to buy them time!" She stated firmly. Klaus nodded.

"They do need time. If this position falls, the second line of defence will be compromised…" He grumbled, before he stood up, and roared.

"GRENADIERS! FIX BAYONETS!" He bellowed. All of the Grenadiers at his command ducked down instantly, and pulled out their mono edged bayonets, fixing it onto their guns.

"Excellent choice, sir." 435612-983610 said, as she unhooked her hellgun, as it would be unwieldy in battle. She quickly scurried down further the trench, grabbing a pair of weapons, though he did not notice what it was.

"CHARGE!" He shouted. Thirty Grenadiers pulled themselves out of the trenches, just as the razor wire line was compromised. A large portion of it had melted away, as corrosive acid from the maws of the gaunts had melted it open. The Grenadiers charged forward, as another group of Hormagaunts charged forward.

Klaus plunged his bayonet into a leaping Hormagaunt. It let out a squeal, as its limbs wildly flapped around. He threw it down, firing a shot into the back of its skull. Another ran around him, trying to nip at his leg with its long and sharp teeth. Klaus jabbed forward, predicting its pattern. The bayonet plunged into its neck. The Grenadiers slowly became packed into a tight square, as they continued to batter and slash at the Hormagaunts that charged at them. Termagants that tried to fire at them, were picked off by the dozens of guardsmen that still stood in the trench.

Klaus glanced back, only for his eyes to widen in surprise, as a Hormagaunt leaped on him. Its blades plunged into his shoulders, as it tackled him to the floor. It tried to rip them out, but it found its talons stuck in his flesh. Klaus kept its snapping head back, acidic saliva dripping on his gas mask, making it sizzle. Suddenly, a bright blue blur came past him, and the Hormagaunt fell back, screaming and writhing, no longer having arms. Klaus looked up, to see a hand offered to him. It was 435612-983610. He grabbed her hand, and pulled himself up, glancing at his shoulders. The blades were still stuck in his shoulder, each blade nearly two feet tall.

"Huh." He mumbled, as he yanked on it. Though a searing pain followed, it didn't budge. At all. The ground thumped again, followed by a roiling roar. Klaus looked up, to see a Carnifex. The biological warmachine let out a roar, as it began to stomp forward. Dozens of las beams began to ping off of its thick armor, though it would do nothing. Klaus knew that they had nothing to stop that thing, which proved his point right, as it stomped forward with an ear piercing roar, swatting aside nearly a dozen Grenadiers. They were sent flying into the Tyranid horde, only to be utterly ripped apart. Klaus was about to hopelessly charged forward, when he heard a screaming charge. 435612-983610 charged right past him, shoving him aside, as she fired a pistol. A extremely bright bolt of energy hit the Carnifex, where its knee should have been. The area glowed extremely brightly, before it exploded in a shower of gore. Klaus gasped in shock. She didn't!

She had taken the Commissariats weapons! The carnifex let out a howl, as it collapsed to the ground, using its scything talons as support to keep it standing. She charged forward, leaping onto its exposed lower jaw, dodging a swipe from its crushing claw, as she drove the power sword right into its eye. It let out a howl, as it tried to stand up, and open its gaping maw, trying to bite at her legs. She shoved the volkite weapon into its maw, and fired again and again, before she leaped off of the carnifexes jaw, falling to the ground. Klaus reacted instantly, as he grabbed her by the collar of her greatcoat, and began to drag her back to the trenches as fast as possible.

"Fall back! It's going to blow!" He shouted. The surviving grenadiers began to run, as the carnifex curled up into a ball, it's skin letting out a geyser of steam and gas, before it exploded like a grenade. The carnifexes body detonated, sending sharps of carapace and chitin like shrapnel. Klaus ducked, taking 435612-983610 with him, as the shards of chitin scythed through the Tyranid horde, killing possibly hundreds. Then, a stream of las fire erupted from the gun line, along with the booming sound of an autocannon.

"You're insane. You know you're getting flogged, right?" He said slowly, as he rose himself up, and continued to drag her back to the trenches. Taking a higher ranking officers was punishable with lashes or death, though Klaus knew that while she was a grenadier, death wouldn't be likely.

"You gave an order to retreat sir. You're getting flogged with me." She smirked. Klaus sighed, glancing back at the talons that were still stuck in his shoulder. He hoped this wasn't going to bite him.


	64. Chapter 0: Da Great Heist of Mars

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

Here is the April Fools special.

I literally made this in two days.

My fingers hurt.

Also, due to this being an April Fools special, I decided to leave the legitimacy of this chapter, up to you.

Anyways, enjoy.

The Koronus Expanse was a lawless sector of space. There were no rules, no factions, no fronts. It was every man, woman, eldar, ork for themselves. Often, racial grudges were put aside for mutually beneficial trades and deals, as the Imperium had virtually no sway here. Heretics and Xenos freely traveled here, knowing that the Imperium here was merely a skeleton in the closet, a boogeyman that had no control and no rule.

For Unkle, this place was his home. Though he had grown up on an ork world in the border of Segmentum Pacificus and Segmentum Solar, he called the Koronus Expanse his home. He rarely left the Koronus expanse, and if he ever did, it was usually for heists.

Unkle wasn't very well known in the expanse, but if he was, he was known as one of the most daring thieves in the entire system, and for making famous parsnip stew. Mostly for the parsnip stew though.

Today was very special. He had recently gotten a contract from an anonymous source, that required his… interdimensional services. He offered them to any who gave him a good bid. Good, as in ridiculously expensive of course. However, this anonymous source offered him an entire Forge World as bounty, specializing in the construction of Titans, which was enough for him. He had concepts for making a gun that shot titans, so getting control of a forge world that specialized in making them, was pretty good in his book.

However, he had other plans at the moment. A heist, that he had planned.

He sat at a table, smoking a pipe that had been stuffed with the finest tobacco in the system. He took a drag, and took out the pipe, blowing a small smoke ring, as he looked back at the plans. He quickly scratched his head, not wanting to show his bald head. He was rather self conscious about that.

He glanced at his partners in crime, for this particular heist. To his left was Takai. Takai was a Warsmith from the Iron Warriors, a warlord of chaos in the neighboring region of space. He sat in massive terminator armor that was a shiny grey, with bright yellow and deep black hazard stripes on his massive pauldrons. In his hands was a modified thunder hammer, that glowed with a sickly daemonic glow, while his shield was the twisted and contorted face of a daemon of chaos, that seemed to move around whenever Unkle looked at it, as if the daemon itself was trying to get out of the prison it was trapped in. Takai also wore a cape of skulls, from adults to children, and even other xenos, that went from the back of his neck to nearly his feet. His face was covered with a helmet that only had a bright yellow line as a view slit. Thick heavy breath rolled out of his mouth grille. Unkle didn't trust Takai as far as he could throw him. Which worked really well in this case, as Unkle didn't even think he could pick him up with a tire jack, let alone his bare hands. The only reason Takai even bothered to show up was mutual gain, and a fair share of loot for him to use in his miniature black crusades.

To his right was Trazyn the Infinite. Unkle gave him an extra hard look, as the Necron was busy studying the plan, which was rather complex and difficult to begin with. The Necron Phaeron was busy tapping his fingers against his staff of light, before the Necron growled.

"Let us begin." Trazyn growled. Unkle sniffed, as he dabbed his pipe lightly.

"Roight, roight so here's da plan. Weze got an opening to make into da sol system, and make away with a zog ton of money." Unkle began, as he took out a remote, and pointed it up into the air. A projector, ten feet away lit the wall up behind him with a powerpoint. Unkle stood up, and stepped to the side, taking another drag from his pipe.

"Recently, da mars boyz screwed up, and dere machineries goin haywire. So ta prevent dis virus, er whatever is goin on dere, deyz been quarentin everyfing. Security is extra low, everyfing is extra low. We got a short window ta sneak our way ova dere, and get away with lots of skrap." He added on, as he quickly went through his slideshow, before it ended with a gif of a dancing ork. Takai snorted.

"It's impossible. Segmentum Solar is more secured than the Iron Cage." The warsmith grumbled, his raspy and demonic voice echoing throughout the space station Unkle had called home. Unkle snorted.

"I made it ta Titan before. Dis shuldnt be any harda. We know da risks, and we know da sweet, sweet rewards were gunna get. Weze gunna be rich when dis is froo." Unkle grinned. Takai and Trazyn both looked at the plan, before they nodded.

"Then let it commence." Trazyn growled.

/

The orkmobeel was a gift to him by a… 'friend' by the name of Eldrad Ulthran. Though, it really wasn't a gift, per say. The orkmobeel was originally a Land Raider, owned by the Blood Ravens. Eldrad gave him a short window of opportunity to steal it, while the Blood Ravens were attacking the local orks by a location known as Argus Desert Gate.

It took him a few tries, but he managed to get it off world, using a giant magnet to lift it into space. It was from there, that Unkle had customized it to his own liking. The orkmobeel was now his tank/airplane/spaceship. It was multipurpose. It still had its original tank tracks, as to serve as a land vehicle. It also had a set of plasma engines, hover pads looted from Tau vehicles, and a set of skrappy wings, allowing for some form of flight.

Being a Land Raider, it was still heavily armed. A miniature Vulcan Cannon sat on top of the vehicle, a direct upgrade from its previous assault cannon. In addition, to the sides were modified and newly engineered plasma cannons, along with lascannons. Basically, anything that looked remotely cool, and had the word 'canon' in it he duct taped on with extreme prejudice. After all, Unkle's favorite word was cannon. Second to that, was his first favorite word, which was Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. It was just fun to say.

Regardless, the Orkmobeel was one of his most prized creations, next to of course, the Dimensional Tellyporta, which he kept VERY, VERY secret. Hardly anyone knew about his real line of work, and it was better that it stayed that way.

Unkle snapped back to attention, as he quickly flipped a flurry of switches, before he smacked a purple button, labeled 'Sneaky Rat'. He took a deep breath of air, as he glanced at the large screen in front of him, glancing around.

"This better work." Takai growled heavily. Unkle snorted.

"Relax spiky boy. Dis aint moi furst toime." He growled. The camouflage fields began to activate, which quickly cloaked the outside of the Land Raider, by bending all patterns of light around it. Along with Unkle's highly active gestalt field, a field that all orks had, the Land Raider was virtually invisible.

However, Mars was no laughing stock. Any planet in the sol system was nearly impossible to break through. If his cover was blown, the entire Imperium would be breathing down his neck in an instant. Stealth was an absolute must, and Unkle had to worry about keeping his cover from being blown. Mars had a vast array of defenses, from electromagnetic scanners, Anti air and space lasers, cannons and autocannons, along with its own garrison of fleets. However, whatever was going down their was doing marvels for the trio, as Unkle managed to pilot the orkmobeel through the rather small garrison fleet. He looked at the screen again, looking through the eyes of dozens of cameras that were attached all over the orkmobeel. Many ships were leaving, from cargo ships to battle cruisers, all filled with incredibly value technology and cargo. Unkle was here for something different, not just for a shiny shoe or dozens of crates of psycannon rounds, the reason why he came to Titan a few months back anyways. He had heard rumors that some certainly naughty Techpriests had been experimenting with Old One technology, developing new weaponry for Titans of Warhound and Imperator class size.

Unkle wondered if the Old One artifact that he had been looking for was here. The one he had been looking for, for the past eight years. He had searched every dig site, every known location of their empire, looking for a clue or a hint to where this legendary artifact was, but to be honest, he was still fumbling in the dark. He had been working on a new project. One that was considerably difficult. In fact, it wasn't even his idea, rather he was backed by a group of anonymous members of the Inquisition, giving him nearly every resource that was available. Money, Mercenaries, basically everything and anything the Inquisition could offer, which was believe it or not, quite a lot.

He was sworn to secrecy, and if he told anyone, then he would be "fed to a Mawloc, alive and whole, along with anyone he had come in contact with". Unkle decided it was best if he kept his gob shut.

"We are getting closer…" Trazyn growled. Unkle went back to the realm of the living, again, as he started to press a variety of buttons.

"Startin em up." Unkle growled, as with a pull of a lever, several small satellites opened from up above them, on the roof of the orkmobeel itself. These satellites began to emit large sources of binary and code, its purpose to fill any scanner that tried to get a bead on them with useless, and often counter productive information. Unkle had long planned for this heist, and nothing would stop him from getting the biggest heist on his life. He grinned, as he eased on the throttle. Takai let out a deep breath, as he looked at one of the screens, a camera that was looking straight at Terra.

"Terra… how I long to desecrate its surface again…" He mumbled to himself. Unkle raised an eyebrow.

"Yoo were on dere?" He asked casually, while he continued to dodge and maneuver through the gaps of ships that were actively fleeing from the red planet.

"Yes. I remember standing on the hill of slain loyalists, Ferzarra stained with the blood of a hundred and seven loyalists." He said, sighing slightly.

"Those were good times." He added on, glancing at the thunder hammer that was leaning on his shoulder.

"Well if we get caught, I hope yoo still got a gud swing wiff dat." He grumbled. Takia nodded, chuckling heavily.

"With Ferzarra, I have slain one million, seven hundred thousand and three victims. She has never failed me." He smirked. Trazyn, who was sitting in the back seat, snorted.

"You seem oddly affectionate to your weapon. It would be a shame if-"

"Don't even fink about it Trazyn." Unkle snarled.

"What? I'm just asking a question."

"Touch my weapon, Necron, and I will have your head paraded on a spike."

"Come and get it, slave."

"Oi! I said, knock it off!" Unkle shouted, slamming his fist into the console, temporarily silencing the two. They would gladly murder each other, but at the current moment, that would be a disaster, so they both decided against it, instead giving each other barbed stares. To ease the tension, Unke turned on his DVD player.

"How bout some music?" He asked, taking a Metallica disk, and inserting it into the disc driver, and shoving the tray back into the DVD, and pressed the play button.

Instantly, the speakers and subwoofers all around the interior of the Land Raider began to blast 'Master of Puppets' at maximum volume. He grinned, while the other two groaned and shouted, clawing at their ears at the sound of heavy metal.

"What is this slaaneshi cacophony?!" Takai shouted, covering his helmet with his massive gauntlets called hands.

"My ears!" Trazyn shouted in pain, as the Necron clawed at his own head. He paused, when he noticed the dead panned look he got from both Takai and Unkle, who had both turned around to give him a full on glance, that spoke 'Are you serious?'. Trazyn frowned and snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What? Just because I am Necron, doesn't mean that I can't hear things you know. I do NOT appreciate your speciest profiling." Trazyn stated firmly. Unkle and Takai sighed at the same time, looking back forward, ignoring the Necron for now. Unkle reached over to the volume, and turned the knob downwards, lowering the volume. Of course, the music was still playing, but it was much quieter now.

"Won't this music blow our cover?" Takai asked, giving Unkle a harsh look. The ork snorted, as they were now coming closer to the planet's atmosphere.

"Wot are ya, stupid? Dere aint no sound in space!" Unkle said firmly, proud of his intelligence. Takai and Trazyn both facepalmed themselves, getting a loud clang of metal from each.

/

Mars itself was rather difficult to get a bead on. The entire surface of the planet was covered with facilities and metropolises, cities that spanned as far as the eye could see. Most of the Red Planet was a desolate wasteland, the only pockets of life being the massive hive cities that expanded out like great pustules. However, Unkle was looking not for a hive city, but a very, very specific location. The Temple of All Knowledge.

This temple was a sacred and holy ground for the Adeptus Mechanicus, and because of that, it was crucial that they were not caught here.

Slowly, the Orkmobeel docked a mile away from the Temple. The cockpit hissed, before it opened up. Slowly, the three thieves crawled their way out, hopping to the Martian soil. Unkle plopped down on the ground, wiping his greatcoat of rust, while Taiko sifted his hand through the martian soil, feeling the red dirt coarse through his fingers. Trazyn glanced around, before he walked forward.

"Did you have to park so far away?" Trazyn asked, glancing back at Unkle. The ork grinned, as he walked around to the other side of the orkmobeel, opening the trunk. Fishing through the trunk, he pulled out a tellyporta pad, and a strange looking gun. He threw the pad down, while he clicked a few buttons, with a gauntlet on his wrist. The orkmobeel began to cloak itself again, as the electro scramblers went back hard to work.

"Alright ya gits, get yer asses ova here." Unkle shouted, as he took the strange looking gun, and began to calculate the exact distance needed. Taiko and Trazyn stood uncomfortably next to each other, as Unkle spent two minutes calculating the exact distance. Finally, he guffawed, as he began to mash the trigger. A golden bolt of lightning struck the trio, as they reappeared within the temple itself.

"Trazyn, do yer fing." Unkle grumbled, as he looked around the expansive halls. Trazyn approached a massive terminal, and slammed his hand. Green and black energy swirled from the center of his palm into the terminal, corrupting and wrecking the machinery as it goes.

"Security systems are locked down. Communications… locked down. All entrances will be locked down." Trazyn stated, as he retracted his hand from the now completely corrupted terminal.

"No one will get in. No one, will get out." He said, chuckling slightly. Unkle and Taiko gave him a hard look. Trazyn lowered his hand, giving a firm snort.

"This better not be a running joke between you two." He said pompously. They both chuckled to themselves, as they began to travel the expansive halls of the temple.

"I hope you know where you're going." Taito growled, as he slowly marched forward, every step he made corrupting and twisting the ground and metal where he walked. Unkle grinned.

"Yeah, I know where we're going. Dont yoo worry. Also, try not to touch any of dese… STC's. These really protective of dem." He warned, before he giggled to himself, as he came across a massive vault door. He pulled out a miniature las drill from his coat, and flipped several switches, before he put on a pair of heavily tinted goggles.

"Roight, lemme just melt through dis fing." He grumbled, as he pointed it right at the door. Taiko swung his massive thunder hammer, the red field of warp energy melting through the thick door with pathetic ease. He swung his hammer again and again, until finally, he had ripped a hole large enough for him to go through.

"Let us go." Taiko growled. Unkle blinked several times, as Trazyn quickly followed suit. Unkle snarled, throwing the laser drill to the ground.

"Bunch of showoffs, the lot of ya." He growled, crossing his arms, and letting out a petty 'hmph!' as he quickly jogged forward, taking lead. After ten minutes of going left, right, up, down, and weast, they came across an elevator.

"Here we go." Unkle said proudly, as he began to violently mash the call button. Finally a ding was heard, and a Techpriest in red robes walked out, who was looking at a magazine filled with computers.

"Oh by the Omnissiah, how bad I would DRILL that…" He mumbled, as he walked right into the Warsmith. The tech priest looked up, and let out a little squeal, followed by a squelch of oil pouring onto the ground. Taito snatched the techpriest by the neck, and ripped his head off in one yank. The martians head, followed by its augmented spine quickly followed, while its headless body fell to the ground, twitching and jerking around, spilling blood and oil all over the elevator floor. The three of them walked into the elevator, while Unkle pressed a button that sent them to the deepest part of the Temple.

For the next three minutes, soft elevator music played, as the three dastardly villains patiently waited until the elevator docked to the ground. Unkle was looking through the catalog that the now deceased Techpriest was skimming through, looking at all of the rather odd pictures of toasters and ovens, in rather odd positions.

Taito was looking through a scroll filled with slaaneshi works of fiction and pictures. He chuckled to himself.

"Silly daemonette. You can't fit that many male reproductive organs inside of you…" He grumbled to himself, as The Iron Warrior flipped through the magazine, settling on another page, and breathed heavily while chuckling awkwardly, a small trail of blood leaking out of his mouth grill.

Trazyn was playing a game of fifth dimensional chest against him, using a hologram from his hand. He plucked a Pawn, and increased its dimension, and flipped it over the board, signalling the AI's next turn.

Finally, the elevator dinged, and the door slided open. Immediately, hundreds of bolts of blue energy flew forward. Taito let out a grunt, as he held up his daemonic shield, blocking the volleys of plasma that came forward.

"Looks like they came prepared. Trazyn, how's our signal?" Unkle asked, as he pulled out a new experimental weapon from his coat. He spat into his hands, as he began to violently pump the gun using what appeared to be a Bicycle Pump. Trazyn was silent for a few moments, while Taiko began to slowly walk forward, still holding firm against all of the plasma that was directed at his direction.

"They are sending out an emergency signal, but I am blocking it. We have roughly thirty minutes until the signal gets through. Then, the entire martian fleet will be on us in no time." Trazyn reported. Unkle grinned, as he finally stopped pumping his gun. He put the bicycle pump back into his coat, as he fixed his hat.

"Thirty minutes Is all I need." He shouted, as he pointed his experimental black hole launcher at the line of Skitarii and Techguard, and pulled the trigger.

Unkle was sent slamming back into the wall of the elevator with a crack, as the launcher spat out a violent blob of dark matter and energy. The seemingly dark and empty blob of energy stopped, nearly halfway into the expansive room. The thing suddenly opened, making a screaming black hole. The light around the black hole was the first thing to go, the next thing being the Skitarii. The silent tech guard were sucked into the blackhole, and were ripped to utter pieces. Taiko was beginning to slide towards the black hole, when it closed itself. In its stead, a massive geyser of gore and blood splashed everywhere, along with bits of machinery and shreds of red robes. Already, nearly two hundred of the garrison Tech Guard and Tech Priests, had been turned to ribbons.

"For Chaos!" Taiko roared in anger, as he charged forward, towards the already battered Skitarii line. He swung his massive hammer, killing three with the sheer strength involved with the hit. The rest of the Tech Guard began to scatter, trying to kite and skirmish Taiko with hails of plasma and lasgun fire. Unkle stepped into the fray, as he stowed away his black hole launcher, and instead used a much simpler weapon. A looted Death Spinner.

The formerly beautiful eldar weapon had been desecrated and pissed on. Literally, hence the wraithbone construct being slightly tinted yellow on the far part of the barrel. Unkle pulled down the trigger, and a sheer amount of dakka poured out, a lethal combination of las fire and monofilament mesh, that led to a deadly show of not only lights, but razor sharp wire.

"FancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakkaFancyDakka!" He shouted, as he began to cut down dozens of Techguard, their cover now completely destroyed from the artificial black hole, along with Takia's devastating charge. Techguard died in droves, the combined power of both hellgun beams and the Death Spinners monofilament net ripping their already unarmored pieces to shreds.

Trazyn stomped forward, blasting the last few Techguard that still lived with bolts of green energy from his staff of light. The concentrated beams of energy scorched through their cybernetic enhancements with such pathetic ease that the Skitarii did not even have time to register they were dead, before they fell to the floor.

Takia finished off the final Tech Guard, by slamming his shield into its frame so hard, that its spine audibly cracked backwards, it's now completely ruined body tumbling to the floor, quivering before it finally stopped moving.

"Roight. Let's go."

/

Two weeks later, Unkle had returned to his home, an abandoned mining station on the center of an asteroid. He was currently reading an ancient tome he had "borrowed" a long time ago from The Black Library. He still had the library card in it and everything. It was a book all about a predictable prophecy that needed a 'chosen one' to save the day. What a bunch of squigshit, he thought to himself. He swore that these damn dirty authors were all parasites, sucking the blood from each other. How they didn't die from blood loss, was the question. He squirmed around on his couch, grabbing a bunch of chips, and shoving them into his mouth. Chewing them loudly and rather messily, he looked back at the book, and continued to flip through the pages. Most of it was in Eldar tongue, while some he could not exactly decipher. It didn't really matter anyways.

The sound of thunderous thumping coming from behind him startled himself out of his near comatose state, as he jolted upwards.

"Ah. Nibbla. I fought yoo were sleeping." Unkle mumbled, glancing up to the massive Hive Tyrant, that stood over him. Acidic saliva dripped down from his gnarled teeth, splattering onto the ground. Nibbla lifted one of his massive scything talons, and shook it lightly. From this, a small piece of paper slipped out, as it had been impaled through at the tip of his claw. Unkle reached up and caught the paper. He smoothed it out with his hand, and began to read through it.

"Unkle. This contract has been signed by you. The Eldar of Craftworld Ulthwe require, and demand your services, with payment already accounted for." He began. He paused, thinking about it for a few moments.

"Da space elves? Da hell do dey need from me?" He asked aloud, glancing up at Nibbla. Nibbla gave him a simple stare, before the Hive Tyrant let out what appeared to be a sigh, as the creature crawled up next to the fire place. Unkle leaned back, using one of Nibbla's spore chimneys as a footrest.

"For the next six months, you will be under our servitude, unless otherwise. This will remain a secret between you and the council." He added on. He snorted.

"Poncy eldar gits." He grumbled, chuckling lightly. He reached over, and grabbed a bottle of wine, and began to chug it down, after he was done, he burped violently, dropping it onto the cold floor, making it shatter into hundreds of pieces.

"With this, we have sent an envoy to your location, found by the scrying of our seers, along with several questionings of your 'friends' in Commorragh." He continued, before he paused. He read that line over again and snorted.

"Eldrad. Yoo aint as slick as yoo fink." He growled.

"Not Eldrad." A rather feminine voice said from behind him. Unkle assumed that for a moment, Eldrad finally turned into the pussy that he always was, but as the figure walked around the couch and sat down, Unkle saw that in fact, it was NOT Eldrad, but someone different. It was a shame too, he would have someone new to make fun of.

"Lofn." He said, smirking slightly, as he reached for a second bottle of wine. Lofn smacked his hand lightly, making him retract it with a yip.

"Unkle." She said firmly. They were quiet for a few moments.

"So where's yer grandpappy?"

"He's outside the station."

"How did yoo find where I lived?"

"Questioning."

"How did ya get here so fast?"  
"You literally live next to a Webway Assembly."

Unkle shrugged. "Eh. True."

They were silent for another few moments.

"So waddya need me to do?" He asked. Lofn took a picture out of her robes, her face covered with a typical conical eldar helmet. She held the picture out, only for Unkle to grab with his greasy fingers. He scrattched his but, while he thought she wasn't looking, as he examined the picture.

"A Deff Korp boy. So?" He asked, clearly confused.

"Not just a 'Deff Korp boy' One that an old prophecy dictates. Specifically." She said, tapping on it slightly. Unkle looked at it harder.

"How da hell am I supposed to tell who's who? Ya know they all look da same." Unkle retorted.

"I'll make sure you know." She said firmly. Unkle glanced at her, before he sighed.

"Foine. Go tell yer Grandpappy you'll be back in a week. Guest Bedroom is down da hall, make two lefts." He grumbled. She nodded silently, and got up. She left his personal chamber, and closed the door. Unkle looked at the fireplace for a few moments, before he got his feet off of Nibbla, and slowly walked to the far edge of the room. It was a simple statue, an ancient statue of a race long forgotten, he found while he was doing some archaeology, which he was looking for a skeleton of a dinosaur on an exodite world. He wanted one. He pulled the misshapen head, and turned it to the right. The sound of steam hissing and pistons groaning, and the door opened. Nibbla instantly rose up, and hissed, as Unkle grabbed a heavily secured safe, and started to drag it into the dark chamber, before he slammed the door shut.

For ten minutes, he walked in near pitch blackness, the only source of light being what was inside the safe. Finally, he came across a heavily locked door. Unkle entered a seventeen digit code, along with three keys and two miniature mazes he had to complete with his finger.

Finally, the door slid open, and hissed. He dragged the safe and huffed, as he continued to yank it forward. Finally, he let it sit down, as he grabbed it, and slammed it onto the table.

In the back of the room, were eight, massive tanks. Each tank contained a large figure, one that seemed to look like a man. Hundreds of tubes of all different shapes, varieties and forms connected to the tanks and to the many power sources and fluid reservoirs, keeping whatever was in there alive.

He opened up the safe, smashing the lock into pieces. He then reached into the safe, and slowly pulled it out.

It was a cube, the size of his palm, but one that let out such a radiant glow that it was nearly blinding. He glanced at it for a few moments. Ancient memories that were not his began to surface, while he scratched the odd scar at the back of his head.

"Finally. I can make ya proud, masta." He said, glancing back to the tanks. He knew where one was. He still had seven more to hunt down. He put the cube onto the worktable, as he slowly walked out of the room. He stopped, standing right at the doorway, before he glanced back at the tanks. He sighed to himself, as he began to close the door.

"Dose Inquisition rats better be paying me good. Cloning aint cheap."


	65. Chapter 64: Confessions and Confusion

**Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH here.**

 **Sorry for the wait.**

 **Here is a new chapter**

 **Enjoy.**

The morning sun shone brightly in the sky, though it was clouded by dark and ominous grey clouds. Klaus's eyes slowly opened up, and he sighed heavily. He slowly rose up, and moved his neck to the left, hearing a crack. He then repeated this process, instead going to the right. With another crack, he was up and at it.

He began his usual morning routine, by begging a quick exercise. With rather little equipment however, there wasn't much he could really do. He started with a quick calf and arm stretch, followed by one hundred sit ups and fifty push ups. It was a bit light on his part, but he was feeling rather well… He was feeling rather lazy.

It was an odd feeling. Not wanting to do much. Certainly it was new, and unusual. He didn't particularly like it, but his legs were still killing him. He would have been shot at this point. It was somewhat interesting, and somewhat disappointing, to know how far he had fallen from standards. When this was over, he was going to whip himself into shape.

He looked around for a few moments. He didn't exactly remember where he fell asleep. He remembered having a talk with Lofn, doing a quick sketch of the horizon and sun, and spending roughly two hours trying to dig Bluddflagg out of a mound of snow, as he had been trapped knees down. Klaus was pretty sure he pulled a muscle yanking him out. Currently, he was sitting right next to a roaring campfire, his teeth chattering, and his skin turning an odd shade of teal. It was the first time Klaus had seen the warboss without his armor, and it was rather disgusting to look upon him like this. In order for Bluddflagg to take off his armor (Lofn's instructions) he had to physically rip it off of his shoulders and back, as it had been permanently bolted to his skin. The result was a thin layer of skin had ripped off, and now hung freely from the bolts and rivets of his armor, gently fluttering in the cold breeze.

The weather in Northrend was unforgiving, as it should be. Made things more interesting, in his opinion. Klaus always was fascinated with worlds with extreme climates. His own included, though it was up for debate whether a nuclear wasteland counted as a climate. He remembered fighting on a tropical world, that flooded during its extremely long seasons of rain. It was there were he had to learn how to swim. Many drowned, as the extreme rain often surged upwards to nearly seven to eight feet at a time. It had friendly people there, and for the sake of keeping the rabble under control while they were fighting the greenskin menace, they accepted several commodities. Normally, shooting one would be enough to keep them in line, but their Planetary Governor had quite a lot of connections, connections that could possibly ruin the Fifth Regiment, so they were limited in choices. One of the ones that stood out to him were coconuts filled with rum. They were rather good.

He looked up, and saw something in the distance. It was a blurred figure, one that he could not see entirely clearly. Klaus slowly got up, his hand encroaching the pommel of his power sword, his fingers locking the grip. He walked closer, and squinted. He didn't exactly have the best vision, being around 20/30. Regardless, he could see instantly what it was. It was a daemon. A horror.

Klaus drew his power sword, and barged forward, charging towards the demon. Twenty meters. Fifteen Meters. Ten Meters. Five. Three. One.

He swung down his sword in a wide arc, intending to slice the daemon from shoulder to hip. However, the horror didn't even process the sword going through its skin. As a matter of fact, the sword didn't even cut through it. The daemon did not align itself in holy warp fire. Instead, the blade merely passed through it, and clinked against the ground, it's horrid and ever moving skin offering no resistance whatsoever. Klaus flinched in surprise, glancing at the daemon, as he went to stab it. Yet again, his power sword went right through it. Was it an illusion?

"So delusional. I wonder why Tzeentch's greatest champions are your idiotic ilk." The horror sighed, as it waved its staff. Red hot chains erupted from the ground, snaring Klaus. They began to drag him down to the ground, until he was at his knees. He fought ferociously, trying to reach for his power sword, which had skittered out of his grip.

"I suppose you'll do Klaus." The horror said lightly, as it began to pace around him. Klaus froze, his anger temporarily disappearing, only for it resurge, more powerful than ever.

"How do you know my name, warp spawn?" He demanded. The horror chuckled again, before it quickly devolved into a cacophony of ever changing laughter.

"Out of all the questions you could have asked, mortal, this is the one you ask?" It said, sneering, before it delved back into a mad tirade of giggles.

"Release me at once, so I can end your disgusting existence." He growled. The horror looked at him plainly. What appeared to be eyes began to form, as its entire shape changed before him. Klaus looked on in revulsion and disgust, before everything disappeared.

Instead of a horror, he was looking on a form that was far… far more familiar and disturbing. Anything that was considered anger before was nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

Karen let out a tirade of unholy laughter, before… IT… chuckled again, as it sat right next to Klaus, lifting a boulder with unholy magic, and putting it down, roughly a few feet away from him. It sat down, and removed its false gasmask, revealing its face. Though it still looked like her, its eyes were burning black pits. As it smiled, faces and glyphs formed into its skin.

"Do you know what I am, Klaus?" The daemon asked honestly, all sources of malice gone from its voice.

"Yes. Scum." He spat. The daemon rolled its eyes.

"So boring, so unoriginal! Do you know how many priests and zealots I've killed that say that right before they died?" The daemon asked, as it played around with its hair, which was now turning into colors that Klaus knew he could not see in a normal spectrum. He focused all of his anger, hate, and rage on the face of the daemon, trying to spare his eyes from a fate worse than blindness.

"I like the hair by the way." The daemon added offhandedly, before it sighed, and rose up.

"Do you know why I am here?" The daemon asked, as it slowly walked around him, keeping an arms wide berth from him. Klaus refused to entertain the creature. The daemon stopped marching around him, and grinned.

"Of course you don't. Do you know what I am?" The daemon asked. It paused for a moment.

"And don't say scum. Don't bore me here." It added on.

"When I get out of this, I am going to rip you to pieces." Klaus promised. The daemon raised an eyebrow, before it smiled.

"Now THAT'S original. To risk the chance of mutation by putting your hands on my skin… that is bravery." It grinned. It paused again.

"I am a daemonic herald of Tzeentch. You may call me the Librarian, for one of us to tell a mortal our true name, well…" It said, leaving that sentence on dead air.

"I come here today to have a chat with you." The daemon said. It went back, and sat down on the boulder again. Klaus, though still enraged, was confused. If the daemon wasn't trying to kill him, then what was it trying to do? The daemon gave him another look, and sighed.

"They call me the Librarian, as ever since I was created, I was given a book, and a quill. I was created to record all history until the stars blacken and the universe comes to an end. Until the great hourglass of sand that is time, loses its last grain of earth, I will record everything. I know many things about mortals, Klaus." It said, as in its hands, a book appeared in a burst of red flame. The daemon licked its finger, as it began to flip through at such a rapid pace that Klaus felt dizzy trying to track its finger. Finally, it stopped, as it started to skim through the massive tome, a book that was nearly the size of his chest.

"For example, I know of your complicated past, and it is rather interesting. No doubt you will be forgotten, as all mortals will be, but your tale is one thread of fate I eagerly wish to see the completion of." The daemon stated. It paused, and looked at him and smiled.

"Would you like to know of your past?" It asked. Klaus paused.

"What do you mean?" Klaus demanded, still seething in anger. The daemon grinned wildly.

"I shall not tell you the full story, because that simply bores me. Instead, I shall tell you little bits of it. As I always do." The daemon stated, as it cleared its throat.

"To begin with. You are not entirely human. You were part of a batch of genetically modified humans, to determine how to improve the Korpsman ability to train in combat. Ten thousand were created, within the cold confines of the Vitae Womb. Only three hundred were born. Only two survived after the first week." He stated.

"Lies…" Klaus growled. The daemon gasped in shock, covering its heart in a mock performance.

"Lies? LIES? I would never!" It said, insulted. It paused for a moment.

"Well, unless you were one of those Khornate braggarts...But that's besides the point, you are rather rude, I hope you realize that."

Klaus was silent, still trying to find a way to get out of this. He was having trouble believing that this was reality or not, as the landscape around him had long morphed and mutated into something indiscernible.

"It was a wonderful tale. The two misfits, that banded together and fought an unwinnable war. Two mutants, bound together by friendship, and perhaps love. I found it to be so sad… that your story together was to end there…" The daemon said viciously, before it stopped. It smiled again, as it changed back into its original form, a pink blob of flesh with limbs.

"However, it never did. You believe her to be dead…" It chuckled, before it smiled grimly, and from its disgusting mouth filled with gnarled and twisted teeth, came a few words, that made all emotions inside Klaus disappear entirely.

"She still lives…" It chuckled. Klaus froze, all thoughts being erased from his mind.

"What?" He said, his voice barely a whisper. The daemon laughed again, as it began to fade away.

"Don't worry Klaus. I'll be back." It said, giving a quick wave, before it disappeared in a cacophony of laughter. Disgusting pink tentacles exploded out of the ground, as the chains dissipated. They snatched Klaus's body, as he struggled fruitlessly, as he was slowly dragged under the ground.

Klaus gasped, as he rose up, looking around. He looked around. It was still night. He breathed heavily, looking around. He felt something that he hated with a burning passion. Not anger, not rage. Guilt.

Lofn, who was sitting in the corner looked up, surprised to see him awake.

"Klaus? Are you alright?" She asked, concern quickly dripping into her voice. Klaus tried to calm himself down, but nothing could stop the tirade and flurry of anger, hate, curiosity, and hope that all brewed in his mind.

"No. I am fine." he said, unwittingly contradicting himself, as he forced himself back to sleep. But he couldn't. Nothing could.

/

The next morning was deeply unsettling. A heavy snowstorm had snowed them into the cave they had taken shelter in, forcing them to stay in or risk hypothermia. But that wasn't the unsettling part. Not by a long shot.

Klaus was still thinking about his dream. Was it a dream? Why would his conscious create such a vision for himself to witness? It was simple. It wouldn't. He wouldn't dream of a Daemon by himself. That meant one thing. That the daemon planted its unholy vision in his mind while he was sleeping. Lofn was keeping watch, meaning that it couldn't have gotten too close, but it was not the encounter, but the words himself that shook himself to his core.

It was not the audacity of the claims that chilled him. It was the fact that they were highly, highly plausible. While he was helping doing cleaning maintenance in the many file rooms, back on Krieg, he remembered a specific stack of files. It was codenamed Project Überlegenheit

. As he went through it, it stated that they WERE doing tests on genetically modifying Kriegsman, but the file was out of date.

The theory that Karen could still be alive, was yet again, highly plausible. The world that she 'died' on was an Agri World, despite the capitol building being called, Verunga Hive. Though its population, would probably have been completely decimated beyond the point of recovery, due to Inquisition presence of course. In addition, according to the Inquisitor that had her as a retinue member, she had been stabbed in the gut. If she could find medical attention, then in theory she could survive. And if she was stranded, she would have a steady source of food and water to keep her alive, in theory, yet again.

The daemon, could have been telling him the truth. However, it being a daemon of Tzeentch, let alone a Herald, this was probably false. What was much more likely, was that it was trying to tempt him. By feeding him bits of information, it would tempt him into learning more. Learning more than was needed lead to uncertainty. Uncertainty let to corruption. Corruption led to chaos. Chaos, led to blasphemy. Blasphemy, lead to treason.

His blood boiled at that word. Treason. He already did some pretty bad things in his stay here, but he would never, never betray the Imperium. He could not possibly imagine his life like that. Spitting on an oath, and the graves of every brother, sister, son, daughter, father, and mother who shed their blood, gave away their lives, just to repay a debt they could never possibly hope to pay.

"Klaus!" Lofn shouted. Klaus shook his head, looking up. Lofn stood in front of him, holding a steaming cup in front of him.

"Thank you." He said slowly, as he took the cup with shaky hands. He quickly took off his gas mask, revealing eyes that were filled with uncertainty, dark lines underneath them. He sipped the warm tea, letting it fill his mouth, before he swallowed. It had a nice fruity taste to it, but this short happiness was completely forgotten, as he saw a figure in the snow storm outside.

It was the horror again. It was watching him. Almost mocking him. He stared at hard, only for it to disappear in an instant.

"Klaus, are you okay?" Lofn asked firmly, giving him a hard look. He was still staring at the storm outside, lost in thought. What if it was true? What if the daemon was trying to tell him something? No. A daemon is the enemy. He could not trust a single word it said. It was most likely leading him into a trap.

Klaus was rudely awakened, with a slap on the back of the head, one that sent him sprawling to the ground, sending his tea cup skittering to the ground, miraculously not spilling the liquid.

"Bluddflagg!" Lofn hissed in anger. The ork raised an eyebrow in surprise, as he went back to his seat near the fire.

"Wot? He woz sleeping, so I woke him up!" He said in defence, as he sat down, and warmed his hands by the fire. Lofn sighed, as she went over to pick Klaus up. She held out a hand, but he didn't take it.

"Klaus? Are you alright? Answer me!" She demanded, but Klaus didn't answer. He was still staring outside. Suddenly Lofn grabbed him by the shoulder, and began to drag him down deeper into the cave. Klaus didn't even try to resist, as he was slowly but surely dragged deeper into the cave. He gave Bluddflagg a pleading look, before he disappeared. The ork chuckled, as he laid back to the cave wall, and began to adjust his hat.

"Women." He snorted to himself, fixing his hat so it covered his eyes. He glanced back at the teacup on the floor, and reached over to pick it up. With extreme flexibility, Bluddflagg managed to grab the cup, and sip it, getting it nearly all down in one sip. He paused, glancing at his fingers, and sighed, as he stuck out his pinky finger, and continued to drink from the cup.

/

"What's wrong with you?" Lofn demanded, as she set Klaus against a rock. He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Nothing." He grumbled, as he stopped rubbing them, and looked up to her. She let out a little 'hmpf'.

"You know I can read your mind, right? If you don't share it, then I might as well find out for myself." She said firmly. Klaus sighed. He was too tired, and confused for this.

"Lofn please… just… just mind your own business." He grumbled, before he paused. "For once." He added on. This made her shiver, before she sighed guilty, and slumped against the wall.

"Klaus… I want to tell you something." She said slowly. She paused, before she took a deep breath.

"I have been… dishonest to you." She began. Klaus slowly pulled his head up, and sighed.

"Let me guess. You're not a woman." He replied. She paused.

"What? Where did- Why would-" She stammered, before she sighed angrily, rubbing her face.

"No, Klaus. It's not that." She hissed. She fixed her hair, and scratched her porcelain white nose.

"Listen. Please. I'm trying to apologise here." She said. Klaus sighed.

"Go ahead." He grumbled. This was probably going to be something extremely petty or small, something not even worth his time.

"Remember when we first met?" She asked slowly. He nodded. She sighed, biting her nails.

"Before I continue, I want to ask you something. Do you have… feelings… for me?" She asked. Klaus froze, his cheeks quickly turning red. Before he could say anything, he was interrupted again.

"And please, be honest. I won't tell Bluddflagg." She said. Klaus gulped, swallowing down his pride. Grenadier Klaus and Priest Klaus appeared on his shoulders, one absolutely furious, while the other was calm and collected.

"Don't even fucking THINK about it!" Grenadier Klaus roared, while Priest Klaus sighed.

"Klaus. Be honest." He simply said. Grenadier Klaus let out a growl, slowly turning towards Priest Klaus, murderous intentions in his eyes.

"Yes. I believe it is possible that I may have developed something for you." Klaus said with a heavy sigh, his pride deflating like a balloon. His personalities froze instantly at that. Lofn sighed heavily.

"Then this is going to be harder than I thought. Klaus, please listen to what I'm going to say to you." She said slowly. She looked at him. Klaus looked back, and saw a single tear coming out of her eye, one that slowly rolled off of her face, and dripped onto her dull red gemstone.

"Does your head ever… itch?" She asked. Klaus's face remained the same as he nodded, but Grenadier Klaus froze, and began to clench his fists.

"The BITCH…" He growled. Klaus gave him a quick look, before he went back to Lofn.

"I had the Necron… manipulate you into… liking me…" She said guilty.

Every thought that was in Klaus's head disappeared in that second. His mouth opened slightly, his eyes slowly widening in the realization.

"THAT BITCH!" Grenadier Klaus shouted in uncontrolled fury, while Priest Klaus looked on in shock.

"He put… Scarabs inside of your head. He said that he couldn't take them out. Not without killing you. Klaus… I'm sorry." She sighed. She looked at him guiltily, and stood up, tall and firm.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you, and I hope you can forgive me. I was… I was desperate for a friend… a lover… I didn't realize how far I would go for that…" She said. Klaus took a minute and ten seconds to take in this information. During this time, Klaus had to process that everything he thought of her was a lie and a construct. He was no longer in control of himself, and he never would be, ever again. And it was her fault. Her greed. Their was only one solution.

She had to die. Yes. She had to die.

Klaus pulled his bolter out from over his shoulder, and pointed it right at her. He almost wanted her to run. He wanted her to try and fight back. It would make killing her a whole lot easier.

"Come on you bastard, pull the trigger…" Grenadier Klaus whispered into his ear, as he pointed the gun at Lofn. He wanted to. He wanted to. He had to, he needed to. It was just another enemy, another person to kill. His face contorted, as he bit his lip bloody. His finger was right next to the trigger, yet he could not force himself to put it on. She was just a person. Just a person. So why couldn't he do it?

"No Klaus! She isn't a person! She's a xeno! She's a abhuman, an abomination, a liar, and a manipulator!" Grenadier Klaus screamed.

"No. She was a friend." Priest Klaus said slowly. Grenadier Klaus looked at him in horror.

"So that's what you are. Your part of the fucking SCARABS! Aren't you!" Grenadier Klaus screamed, walking right up to Priest Klaus. He grabbed him by his collar, and shook him violently.

"Aren't you?!" He continued to shout in anger. Priest Klaus instead, gave such a violent headbutt to Grenadier Klaus that he was sent stumbling back.

"No. I'm the human inside of the monster that were created as." He said firmly back. Grenadier Klaus slowly pulled himself up to his feet, and walked right up to him, pointing a finger right at his nose.

"Monster? MONSTER! You are the monster here, you xeno sympathizer! You ruined us!" He shouted back. He turned around, looking up at Klaus.

"Come on Klaus, you're going to kill her, aren't you?" he asked, though it was more of a demand then anything.

Klaus glanced back at Lofn. She still had a blank face, and she had long dropped her staff. She spread her arms out, almost embracing what was going to happen next. His finger was already on the trigger, but he lacked the strength, the will to do it. Why? She just admitted that she had played him for a fool, just admitted that he was merely his puppet. Why hadn't he painted the cave wall red with her blood? Why did he suffer the xenos to live?

"Do it." Lofn said simply, defiance and sorrow in her eyes. Klaus gasped slightly, before he growled. Tempting him, was she? That was all the encouragement, he would need.

"Kill her, kill her, kill her, kill her!" Grenadier Klaus screamed. Klaus pulled the trigger.

The sound of a bolt shell being fired was heard, a bright flash of fire and a thick cloud of cordite, and the sound of a bolt shell hitting a solid surface, along with its casing falling to the ground with a metal clink. He pulled the trigger again. Another flash, another bang, another shell hitting something, another casing falling to the ground. He pulled the trigger again, and again, and again, until his gun clicked empty. He slowly lowered it, his face contorting into a face full of anger and hatred, not only for his target, but for himself.

Lofn slowly opened her eyes, and glanced around her. Behind her, were five small craters in the rock wall, all where her head should have been. She didn't move though. She instead looked back at him with pleading eyes, and began to walk forward.

"Klaus please, i'm so sorry for ever-"

Klaus didn't even bother to stay, didn't even bother to listen to her plea, as he simply ran out. Bluddflagg came walking in, confused, as Klaus passed the ork.

"Oi! Where do ya fink yer goin?! Its snowin like no tommorow out dere!" Bluddflagg shouted, but Klaus didn't even bother listening to his warning.

"PATHETIC, PATHETIC, PATHETIC!" Grenadier Klaus screamed in anger, before unleashing a violent storm of profanities, insults, and curses. Meanwhile, Priest Klaus gently tapped Klaus's neck.

"You made the right choice." He mumbled. Klaus ran into the grey snow storm, and disappeared, leaving only a trail of footprints, that quickly began to vanish as well.

From a perch, Vo'ndrath sneered, as he watched the fleeing human descended into the snow storm. He could sense the mixed emotions of hatred, anger, sorrow, loathing, betrayal, and confusion, swirling together into a violent cocktail of emotions. The horror chuckled to himself, as he waved his Chosen Space Marine escort further. The two chosen moved from their crouching position, and began to slowly stalk through the blizzard. This would be easy pickings, as long as he played his cards right.

/

"Weak. Weak. Weak. PATHETIC." Klaus mumbled to himself, as he stumbled through the snow. He was weak. A failure. How could he not do it? How could he not shoot her?

She played him for a FOOL. She lied, and manipulated him, and twisted and warped his mind. Why couldn't he do it? Why couldn't he shoot her? Why couldn't he take vengeance upon her. Why, couldn't, he, kill her?

Finally, he stopped walking, and tried to discern where he was. Visibility was complete shit, and without his gasmask and helmet, which he left in that cave. He had ran in a random direction, and he had no sense of direction whatsoever.

It was childish of him to do such a thing, but right now he just wanted to get away from that… that witch.

"You disgust me. You had the shot. She wanted you to do it! She tempted you! And you couldn't do it. You couldn't pull the trigger." Grenadier Klaus growled. Klaus collapsed to his knees, tripping over what appeared to be a frozen hand.

"Now look at you. You're going to die in the snow, in your mewling state. You disgust me." Grenadier Klaus spat, as he disappeared in a quick burst of smoke. Klaus spat onto the snow, and rubbed his nose, which was beginning to leak mucus. He sighed, as he tried to pull himself up.

He saw two figures in the distance ahead of him. Guessing by their size and shape, they were chaos space marines. Klaus tried to stand up, and pointed his bolter at them, and pulled the trigger. It clicked empty, and let out a little whine. Klaus went for his sack to yank out a new clip of ammunition, when he froze. His hand patted the cloth of his greatcoat. Fuck.

He cursed at himself, as he shoved it back over his spine, as he yanked out his power sword, and activated the power field. The blue corona of energy surrounded the blade, providing an eerie blue glow against the dark grey contrast.

The chaos space marines still marched forward, one holding what appeared to be a plasma gun, while the other was wielding a chainsword and bolt pistol. They were highly decorated with chaotic runes and battle trophies, suggesting high rank.

Suddenly, one of them collapsed, falling to the ground, the other shouted in alarm, before he too fell down. Klaus raised an eyebrow, looking around him. He did not notice a brief shimmer in the environment in the distance, a figure of a man walking by. Instead, he still saw nothing.

Klaus tried to keep walking, but he tripped over something else, yet again falling to the ground. This time, he didn't feel like he wanted to get up.

He wanted to lay down and die. He had broken, and betrayed so much. But not killing her was the last, and final straw. He had enough of dishonoring the Korps. Now, he just wanted it to end. At this rate, it wouldn't be long either.

He heard a pair of footsteps behind him. Heavy ones.

"Legion." Klaus mumbled, as he slowly pulled himself up to sit down.

"Klaus." Legion replied. The space marine slowly sat down next to him, as they braved the freezing cold together.

"You knew. Didn't you." Klaus asked slowly, his breath becoming heavier, his skin slowly yet surely turning an unhealthy shade of blue.

"Yes. I did." Legion simply said. Klaus was silent for a moment.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked. Legion glanced at him.

"Then you would have learned nothing." He replied. Klaus gave him a furious look.

"What would I have learned? That I should have never trusted her?!" He demanded. Legion sighed.

"No. You would have never learned to forgive and forget. And even now it seems that you have not gotten to either yet." He grumbled.

"Your mad. You're insane." Klaus said firmly. Legion glanced at him.

"We are all insane. We left sanity behind when we first took ourselves to the stars. I am just as crazy as you, perhaps more. The same could be said for either of us." Legion stated. He paused for a moment.

"Yes, I saw what the Necron did to you. I watched as it warped and changed your personality, thoughts and visions. I know exactly why Lofn gave the Necron permission to do so in the beginning." Legion added on.

"Had I told you, you would violently lash out, and try to kill them. Then you would have reverted back to your primal state, a state that has been sewed into our hearts and souls for a millennia, perhaps more."

"There was a reason I did not tell you why this has happened. The reason is simple. Change." Legion grumbled. Klaus gave him a hard look. Legion continued.

"You see, I believe in change. I believe that anyone, regardless of background can always change, no matter how hard it would be, no matter how unlikely it will be. I want to believe that the most zealous and faithful can change."

"And what? Become a peace loving city whore?"

"No. I want to believe that you can become the next evolution of our kind. A primarch of a new generation of mankind, where we know to hate our enemies, and to respect our allies."

"I serve the Imperium of Man. We have no allies."

"We will have many allies, Klaus, very soon. The Black Crusades, the Tyranid swarms, the Necron menace. We cannot possibly hope to face all of these alone."

"We have faced the brink of extinction before, we can do it again."

"Not on three fronts, we can't. Klaus, if we stick to our xenophobic and genocidal ways, we will be a blip on the cosmic radar in less than a millennia. The Imperium of Man will become nothing but a footnote in history. A foolish empire that strived to accomplish that was impossible to begin with."

"Thats heresy!"

"What is the definition of heresy to you, Klaus?"

"Treason against the Imperial Creed."

"Yet you follow the Imperial Truth. Why is that?"

"I always believed that though Humanity is superior, that complete extermination of all that stood even close to us was unneeded and wasteful."

"So in theory, you are a heretic for simply believing in this, correct? You believe that the extermination of xenos is not entirely necessary, while the creed dictates it is not only necessary, but an obligation."

"In that way… yes…"

"And you have committed plenty of heresies previously. Were those any different?"

"Yes… those were conscious thoughts. I made those choices, and decided to carry them out. I still don't see where you are going with this."

"I am trying to say that what Lofn did was wrong. I know that. She knows that. You know that. I am trying to say that she is dearly sorry. I know that. She knows that. Yet you wont acknowledge it."

"She manipulated me Legion! She wormed her fingers into my skull, and pried my brain open, free to peck and poke at it!"

"Yes. She did. Sometimes apologies cannot cover everything. I agree with that. But what would you have her do?"

"Take them out."

"She stated that it would kill you, no?"

"...Yes…"

"Did she mention it was for a good purpose?"

"She said that it was for her alone!"

"It wasn't. She wanted you to be more accepting of xenos, if only to prevent you from pre emptively killing allies. I assume that the relationship, was a side effect. Something that you chose to develop further."

"No! No… it was the Necron! He did this!"

"In a way. The Necron did… force you to spend time with her. But you chose to develop it further. Every time you were given a suggestion, you took it, and you did not back out, some were forced, but others, you leaped at the opportunity. Do you know what that means? That despite being forced a choice, you still had the option to refuse. You still had the option to walk out and leave and never speak again, but you didn't. Why is that?"

"I… I don't know… You… you can't possibly expect me to trust her again!"

"I am not asking for that. I am asking you stop this childish charade, and act like a man." Legion replied. Klaus sighed.

"You are young. One day, you will understand."

"I'm nineteen!"

"If I added the ages of each and every soul within me, I would be around one hundred thousand years old. Your arguement is invalid." He retorted. "Now, you should go."

"There's no way I can head back at this point. The storm is too severe." Klaus mumbled. Legion stood up.

"Come with me." Legion replied. Klaus glanced at the damned legionnaire, and then at Legion's extended hand. He clenched it slowly, his hand feeling rather small compared to the Damned Legionnaires.

"Did you kill those chaos space marines? Those chosen?" Klaus asked, as he pointed to the bodies in the distance.

"No…" Legion said, clearly confused, before he sighed and waved his hand.

A fiery red tornado quickly began to envelop them, before they disappeared, leaving nothing but a trail of warp flame, that burned brightly. The snow around it did not melt, but it left a trail. A trail, that could be followed.


	66. Chapter 65: The Tournament Burns (Pt 1)

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So here is a new chapter.

Short, I know, but I want to get this out now so I can put in alot of work for the next part.

(Also, small contest at the bottom)

Fear was a concept that Eldar were very aware of, and very knowing of. Every day, they feared the caress of she who thirsts, the dark devourer, Slaanesh. Every day, the Eldar feared of what fate awaited their death.

Fear was a common emotion, one that was usually kept and locked away in the darkest corners of one's mind. Fear is a powerful emotion, one that could drive people to do the most craziest and insane things possible.

Lofn thought she knew fear. Now, it was redefined in her mind.

She rapidly marched through the snow, trying to find anything. A track, a footprint, anything. But fate was not on her side. The snowstorm was quickly filling up, the winds were getting stronger, and the amount of snow began to pile and pile up. "Whathaveyoudonewhathaveyoudonewhathaveyoudonewhathaveyoudonewhathavedone!" She screamed to herself, as she desperately searched out with her mind, trying to find a trace, even a clue of where he went. But there was nothing. It was as if he disappeared… or worse…

"Nononononononononononononononononono he's alive, he's alive, he's alive." She said, breathing in and out, as she began to hyperventilate. Bluddflagg was sipping what tea was left from a pot in which she brewed it in, sticking out his pinky for Khaine knows what.

"Bluddflagg, you have to help me!" She shoutted. Bluddflagg glanced at her, while he was sipping his tea. He leaned against a dead tree, and took another sip.

"Well, I'll be honest twig." He grumbled, taking another sip. "I still fink dis is yer fault." He added on, and taking another sip.

Suddenly, his eyes opened wide in surprise, as he was blasted with psychic energy so powerful that he was literally sent through the tree, and was sent flying back twenty meters. His ass slided against the snow so hard, that it melted. His shirt caught fire, and the ork let out a shout of panic, rolling around in the snow to stop the fire. He looked up, and stammered slightly, noticing the pure fury that was on her face, as he began to try and back up, only to hit a boulder.

"Zog." He whispered to himself, as Lofn extended a hand, lifting the ork up with pathetic ease. Something that she could have never done on her own.

"You are going to help me find him, otherwise, you wont have a head. Understand?" She threatened, her voice filled with pure rage. Bluddflagg stammered and grinned, thought it quickly faded away.

"Yeah yeah, of course of course! Anyfing ya need!" He chuckled. Lofn gave him a hard look, before she dropped him. From ten feet in the air.

Bluddflagg collapsed to the ground, grumbling in pain and anger.

"So waddya need me ta do?" He growled. Lofn calmed down, though she still was clearly angry.

"Can't you smell him out, or something?" she asked, sighing heavily. Bluddflagg raised an eyebrow.

"Woddya fink I am, a Squig? Lissen here twig, just cuz i'm an ork, dont mean I'm an animal." Bluddflagg growled, before he paused, and sniffed the air. Lofn smiled curtly. He sniffed again, raising his head into the air.

"Wait. I fink I got a scent." He grumbled, as he sniffed again.

"Hm. Maybe. Maybe… Wait! Wait… wait… er… I think I got it…" He grumbled.

"Wait! I think I got it… Yeah… yeah… yeah! Got it! Its dis way!" He shouted, pointing north. He stopped, noticing the look Lofn was giving him.

"Well, Ill tell lead ya dere… but I want payment." He said firmly. Lofn smirked.

"How about alcohol?"

"Deal. roight twig, follow me."

/

Skulltaker marched through the heavy snow, growling and snarling. Damn this blasted weather to seven hells! This winter was not letting up, and he was growing deeply, deeply angered at it.

The herald of Khorne had been sent, along with a large attack force to eradicate the forces of the so called, Argent Crusade. At his command were nearly a thousand chaos cultists and beasts. They were cannon fodder, though none of them knew it. They all thought they were exalted champions of chaos. What utter rubbish, in his opinion. They were nothing more than bodies to be thrown at the weapons of the foe.

In addition however, were the elite troops he had at his disposal. Rubricae.

Rubric Marines were the shells of former members of the Thousand Sons of Tzeentch. Former, as in no longer living, in a sense. Instead of space marines, they were now nothing but dust, their power armor becoming a prison for their tortured souls. They were as stupid and brainless as an automaton, but their weaponry was devastating, their resolve, unbreakable. Though Skulltaker loathed to admit, they certainly had uses. He despised the fact that they had to be controlled by a sorcerer, otherwise they would be mindless and uncontrollable. How the Black Legion even got their hands on them was an interesting question, one in which he wanted to answer.

"FORWARD. FORWARD YOU DOGS." He growled, waving his sword in the air. Behind him were the Rubrics, nearly ten of them, who were guided by a sorcerer. He would have preferred Berserkers, but they were busy holding off the endless tide of the undead. They had made camp somewhere close to the so called 'Frozen Throne' and it was every day and nearly every hour that hordes of zombies and skeletons marched forward to try and kill as many as they could. Of course, so far none of the eighty remaining chaos space marines had fallen. He left most of them at the daemonic encampment, as they had plenty of manpower, in the form of cultists on this mission.

Skulltaker was deeply enraged by the lack of killing. The lack of murder and slaughter. He long wished to taste the crimson blood on his tongue, the irony taste of death would sedate his endless rage. What he wished for more, was a duel. This world was pitiful in that he could not find a worthy opponent. He had slayed countless undead abominations and living foes who thought they could best him, but none were even worth note. Hell, he didn't even bother to take a majority of their skulls, as they simply were not worth the effort.

Vo'ndrath spoke of a Guardsman. An Imperial, that had potential, as he put it. Skulltaker eagerly grinned, his long and sinuous tongue dancing between the gaps of his crooked and gnarled fangs. He could almost smell the blood in the air, as he would cut him apart, limb by limb. He could imagine the defeated look on the Guardsmen face, if he was alive, that was, as he grabbed his head, and held his bleeding and broken torso into the air, and let out a sacrificial chant. Another skull for Khorne's mighty throne.

In the far distance, he could see the Tournament Grounds, lit up by a variety of lanterns. Skulltaker grinned eagerly, as he grasped his Hellblade with his other hand. The hellblade was so sharp that the second he grabbed it, it instantly cut his hand, leaving a long red mark, as he released the blade of the daemon weapon. The hand slowly began to knit the massive scars on its red surface back together, while warpflame leaked out of his mortal form.

Should Skulltaker fall in battle, which was impossible, he would reform back in the warp, at the mercy of his master, Khorne. Of course, he had never fallen in battle, and never would.

He smirked to himself, as he pointed towards the tournament grounds in the distance.

"LEAVE NO SURVIVORS." He growled. A large warcry from his personal army was released, as the hundreds of cultists and mutants pushed and shoved, kicked and screamed to be the first ones into the bloodbath. The Rubrics, and their accompanying sorcerer paused, standing behind their daemon commander.

"LET US GO. NOW." He barked, as the more elite of the chaos forces began to follow the seething mass of skin, fur and steel.

/

Bluddflagg continued to sniff in the air, as he lumbered/jogged towards a specific direction. Lofn made sure to step in his footprints, just to make the process of her catching up faster. Finally, Bluddflagg stopped, and looked down in confusion.

"Wait… wot?" He said in confusion, glancing down. Lofn took a step behind him, and looked at the ground. Their were clearly footsteps. However, last time she checked, Klaus did not dip his boots in promethium, and lit them on fire. Well, she never exactly knew what he was going to do, but she was certain that this wasn't one of those moments. She came to a conclusion.

"Legion. He must have took him… somewhere." She mumbled. Bluddflagg raised an eyebrow, glancing at her.

"Who?" He asked, confused.

"The Damned Legionnaire?" She asked. Bluddflagg still had a puzzled look, and began to scratch the bottom of his chin.

"Hm…"

"The Space Marine who has been following us around ever since we found him in a tomb?"

"Hm…"

Lofn sighed, rubbing her face slowly.

"The black space marine?" She said through clenched teeth. Bluddflagg let out a gasp of surprise, and snapped his fingers.

"Oh yea! Dat git!" He proclaimed. She sighed.

"Why is THAT how you remember him?" she demanded. He shrugged.

"Well I can't really see most of da kolors anymore, so da ones I can, I pay close attention to them." he simply stated, as he began to follow the fiery red trail. Lofn raised an eyebrow.

"Your colorbind?"

"Dats colourblind to yoo, ya twig." Bluddflagg growled. Lofn smiled, deciding to try something.

"I get it, you… grot." Lofn said slowly. Bluddflagg paused completely, before he guffawed in laughter, laughing so hard that he nearly fell over. Lofn gave him a good long look, as the ork continued to roll around in the snow, continuing to hoot and laugh and scream.

He let out a strangled cry, wiping a tear from his glossy red eye, chuckling lightly.

"Oh, oh twig! Thats just… thats just… oooooh… oh… oh I… I needed dat." He grinned wildly.

"Oh dat wuz… dat wuz gud. Dat wuz gud." He added on, as he slowly pulled himself up, chuckling darkly.

"What was funny… me saying grot?" She asked. Bluddflagg let out a laugh, before he violently began coughing for two straight minutes, as he slowly began to follow the trail again. The two walked together, Lofn holding Klaus's sack, carrying it on her back, while her staff was still in one hand.

"So I herd yer… yer uh… conversashun." Bluddflagg grumbled. Lofn immediately prepared a defensive argument, ut Bluddflagg held up a hand.

"Dont botha. I aint gonna foight ya ova dis." He grumbled. He cleared his throat, and glanced at her with his fiery green eye, before he continued.

"Now I dont know much about wot yoo two do behind closed curtains…"

"Its not lik-"

"Ah ah ah! I said, dont botha." He snapped, interrupting her. He waited for a moment, then continued.

"And to be honest, I couldnt give a squigshit about wot ya two do togetha, but here's my two teef."

"I dont need your sarcasm." She growled.

"He doesn't need you." He retorted. She flinched, before her face contorted into an angry frown, while Bluddflagg hooted.

"HA! Yoo should see da look on yer face!" He guffawed.

The next half an hour of running was very quiet, as neither didn't really want to talk to each other. The blizzard was beginning to lighten up, reducing the vast quantities of snow that had fallen from the sky. However, the sky was still a deep dark shade of black. It was almost… unatural.

Suddenly, Bluddflagg stopped running, getting Lofn to crash right into his back. She fell to the ground, rubbing her nose, getting a small amount of shiny red blood on her fingers.

"What was that for?" She demanded, as she slowly got up, only to pause. The two looked out in the distance.

The Argent Tournament was in flames.

/

Skulltaker relished in the slaughter. He relished in the death and the gore and the agony and the suffering. All of it was a tornado of senses, that only fueled his unstoppable rage.

He cleaved an orc warrior into two equal pieces, from head to foot, while he grabbed a human psyker with one hand, and proceeded to rip off her head with pathetic ease. He then threw the decapitated head to the floor, and stomped on it, splattering his black hooves with gore and skull matter.

"FOR KHORNE! FOR CHAOS!" He bellowed, a fiery warcry emanating from his throat. The beasts and warriors around him let out a bloodthirsty howl, as they charged forward, heading toward the arena itself.

It had only been ten minutes since the assault, and Skulltaker had already killed dozens of his foes. His hellblade was already drenched in blood and gore, and only for a few moments, his insatiable hunger for war was satisfied. What was not satisfied, was a worthy opponent.

The block of Rubricae began to march forward. The ten rubric marines were essentially invulnerable. Their thick ceramite armor deflected every blow, and absorbed every missile. It came to the point that the Rubricae didn't even bother to waste their time on the beleaguered tournament goers, simply walking past them while they desperately tried to kill them.

"All… is… dust…" The Rubricae all said at once, as they continued to walk forward. They began to gun down any of the fleeing Argent Crusaders as they passed by. With every pull of the trigger, a fiery inferno bolt was released from the chamber. These psychically bound rounds found their mark, not only detonating, similar to standard bolter rounds, but releasing large reservoirs of warp energy. The result was a mess, to say the least.

Skulltaker was deeply disappointed at this point. He so eagerly wished for an opponent that could actually match him in combat. He wished one would just simply… pop up. His wish, was granted.

The sorcerer that lead the Rubrics suddenly let out a wailing scream, one that made Skulltaker and the Rubricae freeze, and turn around.

The chaos sorcerer let out an agonizing moan, as a midnight black blade, nearly three feet long, had been shoved up its chest so far that the hilt itself had come out through the otherside. Skulltaker recognized what it was, instantly.

"DAMNED LEGIONNAIRE! DESTROY IT!" Skulltaker bellowed in anger, as the Rubrics turned to fire at the Damned Legionnaire. The Damned Legionnaire ripped its blade out of the sorcerers chest, as his last dying screams echoed away, the skin underneath his helmet shriveling and ripping itself apart. It leaped forward, decapitating a rubric. The dust within its armor began to rapidly fly out, as the trapped and tortured soul within was suddenly released.

Dozens of blazing red inferno bolts were released from their shells, a cacophony of gunfire drowning out the sound of battle nearby. The Damned Legionnaire dodged each shot at such a rapid speed that it seemed to leave behind a ghostly trail and aura behind it, a fading trail of warpfire and darkness.

The Damned Legionnaire shoved its blade inside another Rubric, ripping it out from the side to slash another one's chest wide open. The Rubric collapsed to its knees, as the dust within flinging itself out of its shell.

Skulltaker watched with interest and joy, as the Damned Legionnaire continued to butcher the remaining Rubric Marines, tearing them to utter shreds. The last Rubric Marine collapsed to the ground, a gaping hole in its leg. The Damned Legionnaire swung its power sword down, right into its helmet, cleaving the headgear into two pieces. The soul faded away, as the Legionnaire glanced at Skulltaker. He grinned savagely, holding his hellblade in a two handed grip.

"YES… FINALLY, A WORTHY OPPONENT. I HAVE NEVER SLAIN A DAMNED LEGIONNAIRE. YOU SHALL BE THE FIRST." He grinned. The Damned Legionnaires weapon began to twist and form, turning into a stormshield and a chainsword. Skulltaker glanced at the Damned Legionnaires weapon in surprise, before he grinned.

"YOU ARE NOT AS HOLY AS YOU ASSUME TO BE… I WILL TAKE GREAT JOY IN THIS." Skulltaker said through twisted fangs.

"Prepare to be disappointed." It simply replied.

/

Alright readers, its time for a contest.

Recently, one of you pointed out how often I misuse Their and There.

And to be honest, your really, kind of right.

So I propose to you, a challenge.

The challenge will end next week, on saturday.

Whoever finds exactly how many times I misuse their and there, wins!

What do you get?

Fuck if I know.


	67. Chapter 66: The Tournament Burns (Pt 2)

**Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.**

 **Here is the second part of The Tournament Burns.**

Also, no won the contest.

If you actually tried to count, your a loser.

Anyways, enjoy.

With that, the two of them charged. The Executioner of Khorne let out an unholy roar of anger and rage, as he swung his massive hellblade downwards. Legion blocked the blow with his stormshield, the clash of the hellblade being absorbed. He then swung his chainsword with a low cut, a blow that Skulltaker dodged.

Several souls in Legion remembered fighting this daemon in particular. A master duellist beyond compare, one of the many minions of Khorne, a lesser daemon who had been granted the title of executioner. His every move was lightning fast, his every blow was devastating and punishing.

Legion smashed Skulltaker with his Stormshield, sending the daemon tumbling backwards. The daemon smashed into a small tent, making it collapse and tumble all over it. It snarled in anger, as it rose up near instantaneously, and charged forward, swinging its daemon blade, the black blade tearing through reality itself. Legion rose his shield to block it.

The result was spectacular and not pleasant. The hellblade cut through the black and white stormshield, a shrieking noise of warp material against warp material. Legion dropped the now broken shield, which quickly faded into ash, as he swung his now free fist forward. The daemon caught it, and threw Legion with his unholy strength.

Legion was chucked several feet back, skidding against the ground. The daemon charged forward, swinging its hellblade with a flurry of swings. Legion blocked every swing of the sword, before he parried an overhead decapitating motion. Legion blocked it, and shoved it forward, making the daemon stumble backwards. Legion then began the offensive.

Thousands of years of combat and experience made every blow calculated, thought out and planned. If this was a normal foe, he would have been dead before the first blow.

However, Skulltaker was no mere daemon. Greater Daemons had proved less of a challenge then him. The daemon laughed, an unholy cacophony that rumbled out of its throat, as it blocked every blow, before it suddenly lunged forward. The hellblade made it past his guard, striking a deep wound within Legion's breastplate. Fiery red blood poured out, as Legion grabbed the blade, and swung his chainsword down to cut it off.

Skulltaker yanked it out quickly, getting another slash on Legion's hand. Legion growled, as his chainsword began to morph yet again, forming a black and white thunder hammer. He shook it slightly, a red field of fire engulfing the hammerhead.

Skulltaker grinned slightly, as he stood his guard.

"NOW… IT'S INTERESTING…" He sneered, his jaw now beginning to salivate at a rapid pace, making a large puddle of the stuff drip down from his teeth.

"I will kill you, daemon." Legion growled, as he glanced down at his chestplate. The black material on his chestplate forming back together, while the blood that poured out of his body stopped.

"IF YOU CAN…" Skulltaker retorted. They let out a scream, as they charged each other. They ran towards each other, black hooves and black boots stomping on the ground. They finally met, and swung each other's weapon at each other. Their weapons clashed.

/

For the past six months, Klaus had sworn he had seen everything, experienced everything and fought everything. He had seen floating cities, had seen massive trees where entire civilizations congregated. He now saw a tournament ground in which species all around worked for a common goal. To kill the Lich King, and his undead legions. He had experienced drinking potions, flying on a zeppelin (which was certainly not pleasant) and had experienced how his conscious was quickly bevin unraveled into possible insanity, if he wasn't crazy enough. He had fought giant frog things, literal tree things, daemons, undead, cultists and beasts. This wasn't pleasant. None of it was.

He reminded himself how much he simply hated this place, as he shoved his power sword inside a creatures rectum. It let out a shriek of pain, as it dropped its rusty daggers, which were about to be plunged in a shrieking mage. The elf looked in horror, as Klaus continued to pull the blade upwards, until he yanked it outwards, making a large 'l' cut right from the bottom of its legs to its torso. Its body fell to the its knees, only for Klaus to swipe his sword right through its neck, decapitating it in one quick blow. A bubble of blood came out of its now exposed throat, as it collapsed to the ground. Klaus shook his glove, which was now covered with blood and fecal matter. The result being dark red and noticeable brown specks to be released from his glove.

"Now that… that was unpleasant." Klaus grumbled to himself. More of the chaos mutants barged into the tent that Legion left him in, screeching in anger. Klaus REALLY wished he had bolter ammunition with him, because this would have made things sooooo much easier.

One of them charged forward, holding up a wooden buckle and a simple axe as his weapon. The savage dog looking creature roared in rage, thick drips of saliva coming out from its teeth. Klaus didn't even give it a second glance, as he simply pushed the power sword through the wooden buckle, going right through the hand that was holding it. The mutant let out a scream, as it slid and collapsed, slamming right into a table that was covered with alchemy stands and the like, the result being the complete destruction of all the glass stands.

"Emperor damned creatures. Just give me a break already." He sighed, as another of the brainless brutes ran forward, swinging a pair of flails around. Klaus didn't even bother trying to dodge its swings, as he simply walked into its guard, and whammed it right in the face with the pommel of his sword. The beast stumbled backwards, dropping its flails to the ground, while it clutched what remained of its face. Klaus then rammed his armored knee into its stomach, making it vomit out some of it's blood. It fell to the ground, moaning and whimpering, only for Klaus to take a step back, and kick with all of his might with his prosthetic leg and steel tipped boot, right to its head.

The sheer amount of force made its head snap backwards, making the head bend the other way, an audible crack being heard from its now ruined spine.

His face was completely blank this entire time, because to be honest, he was getting sick of this. Not sick in a physical matter, or a mental one, but he was just getting tired of this. This was beginning to become something of a routine, at this point. Small parts of talking and insults, followed by lengthy periods of combat. Just like home, he supposed.

Home. Oh, how much he would pay, he would KILL, to go home. He certainly wouldn't mind it, not one bit. Sure, the second they found out that in their records he was either dead or MIA, they would immediately seize him, question him, and then kill him. They might just skip to the killing part, which wouldn't be a problem for him.

He was tired of being someone else's… puppet, someone else's marionette. Orders were one thing, but when someone was deliberately controlling him, without even giving him a smidgen of knowledge that he was being controlled in the first place. Or, if he even had given consent for them to even PROCEED with those things. In short, he was very angry, and very mad. Who better to take his anger out on, then the foes of humanity?

As he casually cut off a mutants arm, and stabbed it in the neck with its own weapon, a black scimitar. It gurgled before, he headbutted it, making it stumble back, he still didn't know what to think about Lofn's… betrayal.

On one hand, betrayal was a grave, grave sin in his book of grudges. People who betrayed him were considered traitors in his book. Traitors were foes. Foes were people that needed to be killed and murdered. However, Lofn was the only one for him to expect such an action.

The fact that he knew that she would betray him was obvious. Though still half human, she was still part xeno. He should have saw it coming. No, he did see it coming, but he completely forgot about it. He completely forgot that she would betray him. She did, but not in the way he expected. He expected poison to be laced in his tea. He expected a knife or a staff in his back. He expected for her to psychically end his life while he slept. He didn't expect her to force him… to like her…

The important question was why? Was she this desperate for a friend? Someone to hold onto, someone to like, someone to love? Why him, out of all people?

He asked himself this question, as he cut a large hole in a mutated creatures chest. It let out a scream, as it fell to its knees. He then reached into its chest cavity, and wrapped his hand around its still beating heart. He then yanked it out, ripping it from its cavity. It collapsed to the floor, letting out a death rattle. He threw the heart to the ground, the organ bouncing slightly, before he crushed it with his boot, stamping all over it. He sighed to himself, glancing back at the elf mage, who was still watching. Klaus was now surrounded by a ring of dead bodies and corpses, nearly twenty of them.

"Are you just going to stand and watch, or will you make yourself useful?" He asked coldly, not caring that he probably traumatized her.

"Wh- wh- what are you?" She asked, stammering in terror. He sighed, glancing back at her.

"You don't see the face? The eyes? I am a Human, and you are in danger." He simply said. He glanced back, as another group of mutants charged forward. He sighed heavily to himself, rubbing his face, covering one half of his pale skin with a variety of shades of blood and gore. That was probably unhealthy.

"Emperor damn it." He grumbled to himself. Why did it have to be him, out of all people? Being dead would be a whole lot easier than this shit.

/

"Gorkdamnitgorkdamnitgorkdamnitgorkdamnitgorkdamnitgorkdamnit." Bluddflagg snarled, as he tangled with a chaos spawn, trying to hold the fleshy monster back, keeping its four arms at bay from tearing him apart.

Bluddflagg wanted to scream. In anger, not terror or pain, but in anger. Hell, he might just do it. Klaus was the most infuriating humie to keep track of… EVER. That little rat kept ending up wherever he shouldn't have. And how odd that this trail where his scent lead him to, lead him to a massive battle. Not exactly a problem for the captain, but he was still pissed off that his client, that he was supposed to protect, kept disappearing and reappearing.

He roared in anger, as he shoved the chaos spawn into a bunch of tents. The beast let out a strangled screech, as it toppled all over them, getting a variety of weapons and armor spilled all over it, and sometimes in it. It picked itself back up, and charged forward with lightning fast speed, and tackled the ork, sending him tumbling back into a more formal construct, though still ruining it entirely. Bluddflagg kicked out with his stubby legs, pushing the chaos spawn back, as he grabbed a log from the ground, and swung it like a bat.

The log connected with the chaos spawns… well… 'jaw'... if such a term applied. The result was still gory, as black blood flowed out of its gaping maw, and it squealed and raged, madly flinging its limbs around.

"REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" It screeched, as it flailed its limbs around madly, as it stampeded forward again. Bluddflagg threw the log like a javelin, spearing it right through the chest. It slammed into the ground, flailing its limbs and legs madly. Bluddflagg took out his shoota, and pumped its massive and overgrown head filled with bullets and lead. After a full clip was emptied into its skull, it finally stopped twitching. Bluddflagg groaned, adjusting his hat. It almost fell off of his head. He wouldn't enjoy that.

He almost missed a rather sneaky mutant that was well… sneaking through the ruined tent stands, armed with poison daggers. Well, he would have missed it, if it wasn't for a nicely placed bolt of warp energy that made its head explode. Bluddflagg glanced at the sound of a head exploding, and grinned.

"Dere ya are twig. I thought yoo wuz hidin." He grinned slightly. She glanced up at him, wearing her typical black and white and red helmet.

"You think me a coward?" She asked. Bluddflagg snorted.

"Yer an eldar. Of course I fink yer a coward." He retorted. She waved her hand slightly. The ork grunted in surprise, noticing that his pants had fallen down. He growled angrily, snatching them up, and fastening it together with his belt.

"Not. Funny." He growled.

"My people are very brave. We have lasted far longer then you have." She said proudly. He snorted.

"We kum from da same creator ya know." He stated. She raised an eyebrow.

"You know of the old ones?" She asked. He nodded, though rage began to seep into his voice.

"Yeah. Sum git told me all bout dem. I hate dat git." He growled, clenching his fist so bad that his knuckles popped.

"You… you want to talk about that?" She asked curiously. He wiped a small amount of white froth from his lips and frowned.

"Maybe lata. We got chaos boyz ta kill, and peepul ta save!" He proclaimed, waving one finger in the air. An arrow flung from the sky, getting lodged right in his wrist. He didn't even process it at first, until he glanced at his hand.

"Da bleedin zog is dis?" He growled, looking at his wrist. Another arrow got lodged in his shoulder.

"Hey!" He snarled in anger, as he grabbed the arrow in his shoulder, and yanked it out. He looked up, and realized their was at least ten people from an assortment of races all pointing a variety of weapons at him, from bows, swords, axes, hammers, and a staff.

Bluddflagg was about to rip them to pieces, when Lofn stopped him.

"I'll handle this." She stated, as she walked forward. The sound of rapid stamping and screaming alerted Bluddflagg. He turned around to receive the brunt of a charge from another chaos spawn. Bluddflagg was knocked back several steps, as he grabbed two of its mighty limbs, and slowly pushed it back. Lofn turned to help, but he shouted her down.

"I got dis! Just go talk to dose-" He shouted, before he was interrupted, as the chaos spawn threw up on him, covering his shirt with green bile. He let out a disgusted groan, as he threw the chaos spawn back, and swung with the base of his powa klaw, knocking the creature back.

"Dose GITS!" He shouted, as a mob more chaos boyz ran towards him, waving an assortment of weaponry. Nearly twenty of them. Bluddflagg cracked his jaw, and fixed his hat, as he snatched the chaos spawn, and held it still for as long as he could. He winded back his head, and just as he lost his grip on the fleshy behemoth, swung his head down like a battering ram. His forehead smashed onto the chaos spawns skull, cracking it severely. The greenskin stumbled back, hooting and chanting to himself, spurring himself into a rabid state, while the chaos spawn let out a screech, as it wobbled around, trying to get a sense of the world. He then lunged forward, and stabbed his powa klaw right through its chest, and slowly lifted it up. His legs buckled, as he grabbed its leg with one hand, while he adjusted his klaw to move upward, somewhere around the collarbone. The chaos boyz who were charging him stopped, watching in awe as the greenskin lifted up the chaos spawn, which was around his size, and right around his weight. He let out a roar of anger, as with one savage yank, he ripped it in half. Black gore completely drenched him from head to toe, as its foul guts and innards spilled all over him, most of them simply sliding off of his armor, while its intestines became stuck in his iron gob. The ork spat out a mouthful of gore, and howled to himself, as he threw the two pieces of chaos spawn aside, and cracked his back.

"Who's next?" He demanded, as he stamped forward, and grinned savagely. One of them was smart enough to throw down its bloodstained club and bolt. Bluddflagg didn't offer such an opportunity to the ones who stayed.

/

Skulltaker hissed in anger, as he parried another devastating blow from the thunder hammer, lunging forward with a thrust that caused a searing scar right on the things breastplate. Instead of simply going through, the Damned Legionnaire instead slid off the blade, and swung the thunder hammer again. Skulltaker ducked, and took a step back, as he charged back into the fray, wildly swinging his blade. The Damned Legionnaire was now on the back foot, trying to hold off a hurricane of swipes, stabs and cuts. Which it was doing rather well.

This was slowly climbing to be one of the most difficult duels he had ever faced. Grey Knights proved to be less of a challenge, yet somehow this Damned Legionnaire was blocking nearly every one of his attacks. Of course, Skulltaker had not even been touched yet. Well, not by its weapon at least. They had been fighting for nearly an hour now, but this thing wouldn't die!

"DIE… DIE… DIE!" He screamed in anger, as he continued his barrage of attacks. The Damned Legionnaire fended off every attack yet again, and pushed him back with the head of its hammer. Skulltaker let out a roar, and grabbed his hellblade with both of his hands, and leaped into the air, nearly ten feet. He bent his knees, and swung down his hellblade as gravity dragged him down. Rather than fall back, like Skulltaker expected the Damned Legionnaire to, he simply held up his hammer, using the handle of it to try and block the blow.

Skulltaker let out an unholy laugh, as he grinned and cackled. This… this fool thought that would stop him? What a pathetic joke!

His feet touched the ground, and his hellblade collided with the handle. The matter of the hammer broke apart, shattering into black fragments. The Damned Legionnaire stumbled backward, only for Skulltaker to take this moment of weakness to his advantage. He lunged forward, thrusting his hellblade right into the Damned Legionnaires chest. He twisted the sword, before he yanked it out, and hacked off each of the things limbs. It's now limbless torso collapsed to the ground, while its limbs writhed wildly, disappearing in a black smoke. Seeing that he couldn't take its skull for a trophy, he merely put one of his hooves on its chest. He looked into its blood red eyes, and grinned.

"YOU WERE NO CHALLENGE… EMBRACE YOUR DEATH… CREATURE." Skulltaker hissed in satisfaction, as he raised his hellblade, ready to swipe its head off in one blow. Suddenly, the body quickly faded away in red fire and black smoke, leaving a single, floating red flame. Skulltaker was confused, as he tried to grasp the flame with his open hand. It zipped out of his grasp, just barely. He then growled in anger, trying to snuff out this annoying ember.

He suddenly let out a howl of pain, as the sound of metal piercing flesh, and the unspeakable feeling that erupted within his chest stopped the flow of arrogance to his brain. He felt a feeling he had never experienced before. Pain.

The Bloodletter collapsed to his knees, now seeing the black spear that was lodged through his chest. He looked at the tip of the weapon, it being a midnight black blade with a hollow center, within that center being a fiery red vortex. A pair of skeletal wings extended out forward from underneath the blade, followed down the shaft by a single purity seal. He then screamed in pain and anger, as the weapon was ripped out of his chest. He heard footsteps behind him, as he looked up to see the Damned Legionnaire, standing before him.

"HOW…. HOW!" The daemon demanded, as he tried to get up. However, his physical form was fading in front of him, crackling and burning up while he watched. He realised what this was with a punch of shock. No other weapon in the mortal universe could possibly do something like this. He only knew of one weapon belonging to an unspoken deity.

"MALAL…" He mumbled to himself, whispering the word that would bring the woe of ten thousand eternities within an inescapable prison upon any daemon.

"Prepare to be erased from all realms, daemon." The Damned Legionnaire growled. Skulltaker looked up at him, and grinned.

"FOR CHAOS…" He said with a wide smirk, spreading his arms out. Its spear suddenly disappeared from its hands. The Damned Legionnaire suddenly snatched the daemon by the throat. It growled and snarled, as it furiously kicked at the Damned Legionnaire, as it slowly rose him up. Finally, with one yank, Skulltakers head was ripped off from his body. His physical form began to disintegrate, while his red bulbous head let out a silent scream, as the skin off its head peeled off and flew away like dust. Legion glanced at its skull, before he threw it to the ground. Its horned skull clattered to the ground, where it was crushed by his foot. Skulltakers hellblade began to fade away also, until it was nothing but ash.

Legion began to morph back into his original form, the sound of bone cracking and flesh warping, as he formed back into his natural state, a normal space marine.

"Now… where is he?" He asked to himself, as he disappeared in a shower of red flame.

/

Klaus rammed his power sword up a chaos mutants chin, the blade jutting right out of its skull and outward. It let out a small whine, before he ripped out the sword, and shoved it aside with his shoulder, letting its body fall to the ground. Klaus had counted that so far he had killed roughly seventy seven of these mutants and chaos cultists. Seventy eight now.

He made some new acquaintances today. If not acquaintances, then Kameraden in Konflikt, as the term went. It was a term for those who were not Korpsmen, but were still ones who were fighting on their side of the battle. Typically, these were guardsmen of different regiments. Vostroyan Firstborn (He didn't consider them human anymore), Mordian Iron Guard, Cadian Shocktroops… E.T.C

Today was not such day. Today, like any day for the past six to seven months, was complicated.

Standing by his side was an… odd assortment of characters, to say the least. There were four warriors that all fought with the Argent Crusade. They at least were on his side. Thats where the similarities ended really.

The first was a stout and pot bellied dwarf, who was roughly four foot six. Dressed in an assortment of armor pieces, from a chainmail tunic to leather pants and black and red iron plated shoulder pads. His weaponry included a simple wooden crossbow and a rather ornate axe and shield. They looked like something of royalty, with their intricate swirlings and runes that were carved into the grey steel and shimmering yet dirty gold trimmings. Klaus couldn't see much of the dwarfs face, though he could clearly see his flowing and masterfully braided black beard that almost stretched down to his knees. His face was covered with a round, though rather square helmet. Small horns jutted out from the side of his helmet. His name was Melm Ironroar, and his last name suited the squat well, as his voice bellowed out like a Watchmaster. They met together when they fought and subsequently slaughtered a chaos spawn. Good Kameraden he was, surely.

The second Kameraden in Konflict was… well… odd, to be sure. It was a complete contrast in looks. From a somewhat looking short human, to a nearly seven foot tall, daemon looking creatures. Draenei, as they were called. Klaus was tempted to kill it, simply because they looked like daemonettes. Although, much more prudent than one, since these… draenei were actually wearing… clothes. Less than clothes, but more like steel plated armor. Klaus felt a tad bit paranoid around this thing, which was apparently, a her. He never would say it aloud, but she looked rather good in uniform, though the tentacles small horns that sprouted out of her skull, and the small, leathery like tail still made him slightly paranoid.. Black and white armor clad her from her shoulders to her hooves, several holy books chained to her armor. In her hand was a large, seemingly swollen hammer, with a crystalline purple hammerhead. It was massive, and Klaus considered it a miracle that she could even lift it, let alone swing it. He hadn't caught her name yet, but she had proved her worth as a warrior. Fending off nearly two dozen of these mutants by herself was a monumental task in of itself.

The third Kameraden in Konflict was yet another odd character. Yet again, compared to his horde friend, it was another vastly looking different creature. A tauren, if he remembered right. Large cow men that would make the hungriest of Guardsmen mouths slaver. However, Klaus quickly found out that this things strength was not to be trifled with. It was nearly as tall as Bluddflagg, standing close to eight feet tall. He didn't wear much, except for a loincloth (Thank The Emperor) and several pelts of fur and feathers that covered parts of his body at random locations. He didn't seem to have an actual weapon, rather a twisted mahogany wooden staff, with a few charms and rocks that hung on it with strings. A shaman, apparently. Klaus had served with the Space Wolves before, they also had something akin to shamans. Rune Priests, as they were called. They apparently could call upon the spirits of Fenris itself. Klaus always thought it was just something akin to daemonology, a science and art that was nearly as evil as the entire Marines Malevolent, who were just assholes. Yet again, he hadn't caught this Taurens name.

The final character was surreally creepy. Creepy not by personality or in aura, but simply by looks. The final Kameraden in Konflict was a Blood Elf. Healthy tanned skin, that had blots of blood splattered on certain parts of her body, and a mixture of chainmail and leather armor that covered her body from neck to toe. She also wore the tabard of the Argent Crusade, with the typical black and white colors. In her hands was a masterfully carved bow, along with exquisite arrows that sat firmly in a quiver that was slung on her back. What unsettled Klaus the most was her looks, particularly her face. He didn't know why, but she looked… VERY familiar. He couldn't catch a name in his mind, possibly due to those scarabs that were probably ripping his mind apart, but he swore he had seen her before. She didn't speak much, the only word that he heard her say was 'Thanks' but even then, her voice sounded highly familiar. Every chance he got, he tried to look to see if their was any entrance or exit hole from the last time he put a las round. So far, he couldn't find one. Her name, apparently was Amora Dayspear. Dayspear… that sounded familiar too. He would have to ask her later.

He was rudely awoken from his trance when a mutant leaped at him, swinging a double handed scimitar. Klaus jumped backwards, but not fast enough for the blade to cut a gash on his arm. He didn't even process it, as he ran right back into its guard, and rammed his power sword into its chest from a downward angle. He pushed it upward, making the blade jut out right from its neck. He then yanked his blade out of the now deceased creature, and gave it a quick headbut. His already bloodied forehead collided with its malformed and bony skull, making the beast fall to the ground. He had long turned off the powerfield on his sword, simply because these foes weren't even worth the time to turn it on. He wiped his forehead of blood, both his own and from his foes, and growled.

"Seventy nine." He shouted. Melm looked up, after he was done eviscerating a mutant, and shouted.

"What did you say laddie? Seventy nine?!" He shouted, followed by a quick guffaw.

"I got eighty two!" He replied in such a voice, that Klaus could almost hear him grin.

"The three headed one didn't count." Klaus growled back.

"You bet your ASS it did!" He shouted back, slamming his axe against his own chest. Probably not safe.

"Quiet. Both of you." The draenei demanded. The four of them finished off the gaggle of nearly one hundred of these mutants, with Amora shooting one last arrow into a chaos mutants neck, making it stumble backwards before collapsing. Another figure loomed in the distance, rather large too. Klaus glanced at it, before he noticed all of them raising their weapons.

"Hold on, don't shoot, don't charge. I know him." Klaus stated. Melm lowered his crossbow, a small amount of fog drifting from his helmet.

"That orc is massive! You… you know… it?" He asked. Klaus sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Yes. Unfortunately." He grumbled. Bluddflagg stomped into view, and gave them a quick look. His entire skin was completely covered in a variety shades of blood, from red to purple to black. His face itself was completely black, save for his one glossy red eye and fiery green one. He snorted, and wiped his face, and shook his coat.

"Dere ya are Klaus." The ork grinned, smiling slightly. He then looked at his Kameraden, and grinned.

"Got sum new friends did ya? Hope yer day at daycare wuz fun fer ya." He smirked, chuckling at his own joke.

He then stepped aside, letting Lofn walk into the scene. Klaus froze for a moment, his face turning into an angry frown. He hadn't expected her to be here. Yet again, he swore that she was like a Kriegen Hound when it came to finding things that she wanted.

"There you are." She smiled, as she came forward, taking off her helmet. His face didn't change.

"What a pleasant surprise." He hissed. She quickly got his hint, and glanced at each of his Kameraden. She gave a quick glance to each of them, except for Amora. She gave her a long stare. Long as in, it was getting uncomfortable.

"Oi… Twig… Ya had sumfin ta say, didn't ya?" Bluddflagg asked, giving Lofn a small shove. She broke out of her trance, giving Amora one last stare, before she glanced back at Klaus.

"The main fighting is happening in the Arena. There seems to be portals that keep summoning the minions of chaos. An exceptionally powerful daemon seems to be fueling them, a"

"A daemonic herald." Klaus finished. Lofn gave him a confused glance, before she nodded.

"Yes, that's what it seems. We were about to head that way, when we came across…" She said, taking a quick breath, before she glanced at him again. "You." She added on. Klaus snorted. He knew it was bullshit. He knew that she was tracing into his location. He still wasn't going to forgive her. However, he knew that he wasn't going to get rid of her. Not for awhile. At least now he had some better, less traitorous company. At least they wouldn't stab in the back, and try to guilt him into forgiving her.

"Fine then." He spat, with venom in his voice. Melm Ironroar chuckled, nudging the Draenei's knee.

"Awkward, aint it?" He asked, chuckling slightly.

"Melm. Cease. And. Desist." She muttered. The dwarf chuckled one last time, before he sighed.

"Right right…" He mumbled.


	68. Chapter 67: The Tournament Burns (Pt 3)

**Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.**

 **So here is part three of the tournament burns.**

 **I have a small question for you guys**

 ***Its at the bottom***

Klaus stumbled back, grabbing the blade that was lodged in his abdomen, before he yanked it out, and threw it at the offending mutant. The mutant, who was letting out a victory cry, thinking him defeated, let out a squeal of surprise, as the knife was thrown right into its heart. Klaus glanced at his now bleeding stomach. A large wound to be sure, but that wouldn't stop him. Of course, somehow it magically managed to find a way through all of his armor. That wasn't suspicious at all.

He swung his sword, fending off a hatchet wielding beast. It stumbled back, before it let out an incoherent roar of rage. It charged forward, wildly swinging its weapon. Klaus parried its first blow, and moved out of the way for the second, but did not manage to get out of the way of the third. The blade of the axe swung down, getting a nice cut along his breastplate, getting a shriek of metal. A shock of pain erupted from his wound, as he shoved the thing back, noticing that he was quickly being cut off from the group.

The axe wielding creature let out a gargled laugh, as it charged again, before it suddenly jerked forward, sliding into the mud, nearly knocking Klaus over. Klaus noticed the arrow, lodged in the back of its head. The others looked in her direction, before nearly simultaneously, each one of them dropped down, an arrow lodged in either their head, neck, or heart.

"Thats two for me!" Melm shouted, lowering his crossbow, while Amora merely glanced at him, and then at his hand.

"Your wounded." She pointed out. Lofn came over, giving her a sneer.

"Very observant." She hissed. Klaus raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Was Lofn… jealous? For what? She came over, though Klaus took steps backward. Lofn looked back up at him, and sighed.

"Don't be like that." She sighed. Klaus snorted.

"Why? So you can betray my trust again?" He retorted. She seemed angry for a moment, before she sighed, taking a step back.

"Fine. Bleed out. I don't care." She said firmly, though the tone of her voice made it seem like the complete opposite. The tauren then stepped in, taking steps forward.

"Stand back." His whispery and cracked voice demanded. Lofn and Amora took a few steps back, while Klaus looked up suspiciously at the tauren. This… this probably wasn't going to end well for him.

"Move your hand." The tauren simply said. Klaus sighed, moving his hand out of the way, though somewhat reluctantly. He noticed this.

"I am shaman. Relax." The tauren stated. Klaus snickered to himself internally. How angry would a runepriest be if they found out that something like cow men considered themselves shamans. It was laughable. Until the tauren let out a mutter, and waved his hand.

Klaus watched with near horror, as his wound quite literally healed itself. It didn't even knit itself back together, something like potions. Instead, it simply glowed brightly, so brightly he squinted slightly, and when he glanced back at it, it was good as new. The blood that flowed from it no longer did so, though the undershirt underneath was splattered with his blood, along with his fingers.

"What the fr-"

"You are welcome." The tauren simply said, smirking slightly, as he took a few steps back. Klaus took a few moments to process this, before he shook his head, and walked forward.

"Right. Forward." He commanded, taking lead. He walked forward, before he glanced at Lofn, and stopped.

"Helmet. Gasmask." He simply said. She gave him a dull look, before she snapped into action, reaching into her satchel, pulling out his helmet and gasmask. He paused to fit it onto his head, and strap it onto his face. Finally, he fixed it, and began to lead the group forward.

Melm nudged the draeneis knee, and was about to say something, when she interrupted him.

"Dont. Even." She hissed, glancing down at him with her blue orbs that were her eyes. The dwarf chuckled awkwardly.

"I mean… come on…" He grumbled.

"I said don't even try it." She hissed.

/

Legion sighed to himself. Why… why did he come here? Well, it was rather simple really. He needed something from… him.

He was an odd character to Legion. He claimed to be from one background, but was so interested in another that Legion often questioned what culture he was more absorbed in. Legion promised itself that he wouldn't come here again. A fair amount of souls within him had met their end due to his barbarous experiments, including the so called 'Lazarus' Project. However, he had to play suck up. He had what Legion needed. Wargear, ammunition… anything he could get his filthy, grubby, paws on.

He sighed, and knocked on the steel bulkhead. Legion waited for a few moments, as he heard footsteps, and the sound of glass shattering.

The door opened, revealing a five foot five, scraggly and rather smelly ork. He looked up, and grinned.

"Legion! Wot are yoo doin 'ere?" Unkle asked, as he eagerly shoved Legion into his personal room, closing the door behind him. Legion took a long look around. The room was the size of a two story building. Trophies from past hunts and heists were hung all around, from a skull from a hierophant that hung from above by hundreds cables and wires, to the shoulder pad of an Imperial Knight, that was mounted on the wall above a crackling fireplace, to a sword of a greater daemon of khorne, which was firmly bolted to the wall. The walls itself were covered with a soft padding, somewhat similar to carpet wallpaper. Several cabinets lined the walls, filled with an assortment of items.

"I've come for a… chat." Legion stated. Unkle sighed, scratching his head.

"Lissen, can ya kum fer a talk later? I'm playin Dwarf Fortress ere." He explained. Legion raised an eyebrow.

"...Dwarf… Fortress?" He said, confused. Unkle nodded.

"Yeah." He said, before he snarled. "Zoggin impossible! I'm on me fifth playthrough!" He added on, crossing his arms.

"How… how long have you been playing?" Legion asked. Unkle let out an 'eh' as he walked over to a large cabinet, and opened it up, revealing a massive collection of alcohol, from a massive span of planets. Kriegan Gin, Cadian Beer, Valhallan Schnapps, Fenris Brew were included.

"A week. I haven't slept yet." Unkle said, as he selected a bottle of brew, and closed the cabinet. Legion shuffled awkwardly. His relationship with Unkle was… uncomfortable, to say the least.

"So!" Unkle said, clapping his hands together, and rubbing them together, as he sat down, and poured himself a glass of glowing blue alcohol, before he glanced up at Legion, and smiled.

"Wot brings me favorite creation ere?" He asked. Legion sighed. He hated when he said that. Or even mentioned it to begin with.

"I need wargear." Legion stated. Unkle paused, before he began to drink the entire bottle of alcohol, leaving the cup on his table. He burped violently, and dropped the bottle, making it shatter all over the floor.

"Wargear eh?" The ork asked, as he slowly pulled himself up.

"Waddya yoo need wargear fur? Wots da point of givin yoo a daemon weapon if ya aint gunna use it?" He asked. Legion sighed.

"It's not for me. Its for the guardsman." He stated. Unkle scratched his ass, and then sucked on his finger, before he let out a shout, snapping his fingers.

"Da humie! Dat wuz da hardest target I eva had to track down ya know." He grinned. He then paused, as he smiled.

"So what does he need eh? Boolets? Swords? Arma? Bombs? Titan? I got one in da garage. Imperator Class." He cackled. Legion wasn't going to even ask about the last item on the list.

"No… I have a better idea. What items do you have that specialise against… chaos?" Legion asked. Unkle chuckled darkly, rubbing his hands together.

"Yeah… now yer talkin… Follow me. I got some good old Grey Knight stuff in storage he can use. Matt Ward free." Unkle smiled. Legion scratched his helmet.

"Matt… who?" He asked. Unkle sputtered, before he groaned.

"Ergh! Neva moind." He simply snapped, leaving it at that. Unkle was crazy. The ork stood up, and walked over to the side of the room, and pressed his hand on the wall. It began to open up, revealing a secret chamber. Legion was surprised. He could not sense this secret chamber, like he could see nearly everything else. Unkle noticed this, as he slowly walked through the chamber.

"Warp Submitters. These are da koind dey use on da Black Ships. Good at snuffin out any psychic powa. Particularly annoying ta daemons." He grumbled, as he continued to walk through the dark chamber, flipping several switches. The chamber became bathed in blue light, revealing a massive chamber, filled with artifacts and technology. Legion breathed slightly, looking around in wonder. Unkle smirked, as he gestured to the chamber, all around them.

"Dis is me secret vault. Da best of da best. I've killed, stole, loot, bought, and traded fer everyfing ya see here. My uvva stuff is just fer show. But dis…" He said, grinning, before he chuckled. "DIS is da best stuff I eva got." He smiled.

"I got everyfing. Imperial Tech. Chaos relics. Eldar Gubbins. Tau Shinies Necron Artifacts. Still diggin fer Old One bits. Still hard ta foind, ya know." He said nonchalantly.

"How…"

"I trade sum stuff from Trazyn. I got most of my chaos stuff from him. Don't touch dem. Dere sensitive." He added on. He spat in his hands, and rubbed them together.

"Now!" He shouted, as he walked over to the Imperial section, and cracked his knuckles. He went up to a keypad, and began to type some things in, before he slammed another button to the side. A long vertical conveyor belt hissed, as it began to move, revealing a vast arrange of weapons.

"Here we go! Now, what does Klausy poo need? Ammunition? Weapons? Arma? I got it all!" He proclaimed. Legion sighed. He knew he was going to regret this.

"Surprise me." He grumbled. The ork paused, before his beady red eye had a fire spark from within, and chuckled darkly.

"No takebacks…" He grinned, as he reached for a modified stormbolter.

/

Lofn wasn't exactly sure how to approach this situation. As she absentmindedly used her psychic powers to aid her fellows in combat, though she was sure they didn't really need it.

Her confession to Klaus that she had manipulated him, turned out in a way that she really predicted. In a way. She completely expected him to be so confused that he would simply run off, and she expected that he would leave a trail behind, which he did. She also expected that he would find his way here, which he did, though not in the way she expected.

What she did not expect, was for him to find new friends. Now, she didn't mind new company. As a matter of fact, she was completely fine with the prospect. It was thrilling for him to finally be socializing, in the very little chances he could, rather than sulking about or simply hiding underneath a blanket and read to himself, which was something he did. She found that rather cute.

She glanced at him, as Klaus was currently busy prying open a mutants mouth, putting one hand firmly on its nose and upper jaw, while another was right on its chin and lower jaw. His sword was lodged in its knee, as he broke its jaw with one savage push, making it slackjawed. It fell to the ground, where he gave it a good kick to the head, caving a part of its head in, before he yanked out his sword, and went on to his next target, simply by kicking it in the nethers region, and then grabbing its head, and driving it down on his knee, breaking its nose. As it crawled away, Klaus grabbed it by the back of the head, and slammed it down into the ground. A process which he began to repeat. She noticed that he had become far more… brutal in his style of killing. Lofn didn't like to kill. Though she saw that some simply deserved such a fate, she always wanted to make it quick, regardless of race or character. However, he was certainly more interested in making death a rather painful process.

Going back on topic, Lofn didn't mind that Klaus had friends. Not at all. What she did have a problem with him being… too close to them.

From their looks, she already didn't like two of the four of his 'Kameraden.' The dwarf she was fine with. If Klaus needed someone to drink with, he should be comfortable with him. The tauren, she was also fine with. She didn't mind another spellcaster in the group, and she could learn a trick or two.

What she was immediately worried with was the other two. Amora, and the draenei.

Amora was a character that very quickly and very easily set off alarm bells in her mind. She looked like the type that was an assassin, and that was a type of person she was NOT comfortable around. She was also not comfortable in the fact that Klaus seemed to favor her more as a companion, from what little time they have met with each other.

So far, she had counted that they had each saved each other's life at least four times. They also were fighting back to back at the current moment, which was disturbing in her mind. They fought in a loose gaggle. While the Blood Elf would shoot enemies from afar, any that got to close was subject to Klaus's sheer brutality. He didn't wield that sword with skill, yet he seemed to be rather… innovative in how he used it.

She suddenly was brought back in the world, as a charging mutant tried to ram her with its engorged tusks. She smacked it to the side with her staff, making it stumble backward. Her eyes lit with blue energy, as she shot out a bolt of warp lightning, making it fall to the ground, dead and deceased.

"Oi! Twigg!" Bluddflagg shouted. Lofn glanced over, as Bluddflagg was busy pushing and holding back two chaos spawn simultaneously.

"Littul help!" He shouted, as he desperately tried to hold them back. The screaming beast's clawed and bit at him, clawing off small chunks of his flesh. She sighed, as she conjured forward up several bolts of warp energy from her palm, and shot them forward. The blueish black bolts of energy slammed into one of the chaos spawns mutated head, making it explode simultaneously. Its body fell to the ground, shaking and twitching in its final death throes, while Bluddflagg pushed the Spawn backwards. The Chaos Spawn let out an incoherent jibber, as it forced itself up, and let out an unholy shriek, as it charged forward again, only for the sound of a bolter firing to be heard. The chaos spawn fell to the ground, a gaping hole in its skull.

Lofn glanced at Klaus, who shook his bolter, clearing the smoke stack that errupted from the barrel.

"How close are we?" He demanded.

"Were in the Vendor's section. The colosseum shouldn't be far." The draenei stated. Lofn gave her a quick glance, before she went back to giving death glares at Amora. The Blood Elf didn't even pay her attention, something that pissed her off to no end.

"Pst. Sheila." Bluddflagg mumbled, giving her a quick nudge. Lofn glanced up at him with an angry frown, getting a curious stare from him.

"Um. Are you alright?" He asked. Lofn snapped out of her trance.

"Yeah, yeah." She smiled. Bluddflagg scratched his eye.

"Yoo sure?" He asked again.

"I said i'm fine. If anything, I should ask if YOU are fine." She snorted, waving to the massive gashes in his . Bluddflagg let out a hmph.

"Foine, foine. Yer just starin at her so hard that yer eyes might pop out." Bluddflagg grumbled, pointing at Amora, who was currently retrieving her arrows from the bodies of the dead.

"I mean, I never thought yoo were dat koind of girl, but if dats yer preference, den woteva." Bluddflagg simply said. It took Lofn exactly four seconds and three hundred and seventy two milliseconds to understand what he meant.

"Wait WHAT?!" She shouted. Bluddflagg chuckled lightly, waving her away.

"Go on, follow da leada. I'll catch up, I saw sum shiny bits ova here." Bluddflagg grinned, as he started lumbering away, chuckling at his own joke.

/

The coliseum was the centerpiece of the Argent Tournament. It was here where steel met steel, metal against metal. Ever since the Tournament was first set up, thousands of combatants entered the arena, and thousands left. Ferocious beasts were culled, ravenous undead were slain, and fellow combatants were defeated. It was here where the best warriors were trained and prepared for the long war against the Undead.

However, they were taken off guard by a new enemy, one that would haunt them for a long time.

Once a place of friendly competition and sport, it was now a bloody massacre. Bodies in the hundreds were strewn across the fields and the seats, as a never ending stream of mutants, cultists and beasts spewed out from a fiery red and purple portal.

However, Vo'ndrath knew that there was a limit. He knew that he couldn't keep it up for now. The twisted and thrice cursed magic of this land severely limited his abilities. Though the boundaries that prevented their incursion in the first place were for now, fading, the limits that practically strangled him and his efforts were infuriating.

Vo'ndrath growled slightly, as he finally closed the portal. He felt that for now, he had accomplished his goals. To rouse up the Argent Crusade. Seeing how simple it was to defeat these lowly scum, they would try to retaliate. Then, they would crush them. Then the undead, and then the rest of the mortal kingdoms.

The Argent Crusaders fought as hard as they could to retake the coliseum. Who lead them, of course, but Tirion Fordring.

Tirion Fordring could be described as a knight of old. When humanity was stuck on their green rock, their primitive and feeble minds would often look upon those with grandeur and stature, and hail them as heroes, even if their accomplishments were miniscule or nonexistent. He supposed old habits die hard.

Tirion Fordring wore gold and blue and silver armor, covering from head to toe. Small flames burned from within his shoulder pauldrons, having a small enclave from which they were safe from arterial spray. He was covered in a variety of shades of blood, and within his eyes, Vo'ndrath could see the simple and pure rage that manifested within him like a daemon, begging for release.

The daemon smiled, from his seat in the booths, as he let out a small chant, pointed his staff towards one of the more backward of the Crusaders, and snapped his finger.

The orc was busy chopping off a mutants head, when he suddenly let out a scream, and fell to his knees, writhing and shriveling up in front of his comrades. His greenskin began to mutate, twist and form in front of their eyes. His muscles swelled to unholy proportions, and his head split open, revealing a gaping maw filled with teeth and tentacles that erupted from its tonsils. The orcs hands cracked and were ripped apart, forming into hard bony spikes and claws.

The chaos spawn let out a shriek, as it began to rip apart its former comrades. In the tightly packed entryway, this lead to sheer mayhem, as the chaos spawn began to kill and maim scores of men and women.

Vo'ndrath let out a light chuckle from his mouth, as he stood up and revealed himself. He glanced at Fordring, and smiled to himself.

Almost as if he knew he was being watched, Fordring looked up to see the daemonic herald of Tzeentch, as he slowly clapped his hands. With the last of the mutants and cultists slain, along with the chaos spawn, Vo'ndrath was all alone.

"Bravo Crusaders. Bravo indeed." He shouted aloud. He clapped for another few seconds, before he stopped, grabbing his staff.

"You have defeated my forces. Your weapons are stained, your armor, is dented. Your psyche… drained." He added on. The daemon then smiled slightly, as he tipped his staff forward.

A thin red mist began to erupt from the coliseum grounds itself. This thin red mist began to seep into each and every corpse that lingered within the tournament grounds.

"I suppose I can do you a favor…" The daemon said, as he clinked his staff to the ground.

Suddenly, they burned. Each and every dead body lit itself in blue, purple, red and pink warp fire. Their skin quickly melted away, along with their skeletons, leaving nothing but ash.

"You monster!" Fordring shouted, as he stepped forward, pointing his sword at the daemon.

"Oh, we're far past that now…" Vo'ndrath smiled. He took a step back, and slammed his staff into the ground.

A small portal opened by his side, as Vo'ndrath glanced back at the crowd. He saw a familiar face in the crowd. A future servant in his eyes. Klaus.

The daemon grinned slightly.

"We will be back. The Armies of Chaos shall march upon your world. We shall kill your warriors. Despoil your families. Defile your shrines, and enslave your people." Vo'ndrath stated. He then gave Klaus a hard, hard stare. The daemons eyes peered straight at the grenadier, who returned that glance with a stare full of hatred.

"Mark my words, for they shall be the last words you will ever hear as a free people." He added on, before he walked through the portal, to which he disappeared.

/

Hey guys, so uh... quick question. Is Wattpad any good? I might set up shop there sometime soon.


	69. Chapter 68: Doppelgänger

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

Now sorry for you autistic neck beards, I kind of lied to you. There is no citrus in this chapter. It will be in chapter 69. (Tee hee)

Since I got tired of waiting, I decided to release the parts I did, just so I didn't keep you guys waiting.

New antagonist in this chapter.

Are our protagonists ready for it?

I unno.

Enjoy.

Klaus shoved a piece of bread into his mouth, chewing slowly before he swallowed. He hadn't eaten in days, and he already had a whole loaf of it. Sure, eating just bread wasn't exactly beneficial, but he was so hungry at the moment he couldn't care less. While he took another bite, he was casually sharpening his sword. The day had grown weary on him, and it was now near the dead of night. However, the only reason he was still up was that he was invited to a small party. Though he would normally refuse, he was… persuaded to do so by Melm. He guaranteed it would be a wonderful time. So far the dwarf was nothing but honest to him, so he supposed that nothing could go wrong.

He heard heavy footsteps behind him. He knew that pattern.

"Legion. What do you want?" Klaus asked, as he went back to sharpening his sword, finishing his bread.

"I want nothing. You however, could use something." He simply replied, as he heard something drop behind him.

Klaus glanced upwards, and looked behind him. His pupils dilated slightly at what he was looking at.

"Ammunition?" He asked, as he grabbed the clip of bolter rounds. He slided the clips door open, pulling out a single round.

"Yes. Psycannon Rounds. Used exclusively by the Ordo Malleus and the Grey Knights." Legion stated. Klaus raised an eyebrow.

"Grey Knights? Who are they?" Klaus asked. Legion gave him a glance for a few moments, before he waved his hand.

"A chapter of Space Marines. That is all you are required to know." Legion simply said. Klaus decided that if he was going to be secretive about it, he wouldn't push it any further. Klaus looked at the psycannon round, examining it in close detail.

It looked similar to a normal bolter round, in that it was the same shape, and roughly the same size, though it appeared that the psycannon round was slightly smaller. On it were hundreds of tiny inscriptions, most of them he couldn't even read. The base of the round was grey, while the tip of it was a silver so holy that it seemed to radiate a golden energy around the rounds warhead. He glanced back down at the ground. There were ten clips, though how many rounds in one clip… he wouldn't really know until he tested it out.

"Well… thanks." Klaus said, glancing back at his sword.

"I wasn't done." Legion said, as he dropped another thing on the ground. It was something heavy, as he heard it clank to the ground. Klaus glanced back behind him, and gasped slightly.

On the ground were two items. One was a black and silver shield, that was roughly the size of his entire torso. It seemed to be made of primarily plasteel, and had several purity seals adorned on its surface. The other was a plasma pistol. This one seemed to be unique, in the fact that its magnetic cooling coils on the top of the weapon were not the usual blue that he was so used to seeing, but an amber yellow. He scooped up the plasma pistol, looking it over. He noticed the fact that this one, on the butt of the pistol, had the symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus on it, suggesting that it was more advanced than a standard plasma weapon. Klaus wasn't exactly a big fan of plasma pistols. He had more than a few third degree burns on his body because of using them to begin with. They often overheated, and usually either burned their users hands, or scarred their face with extremely hot steam. Klaus was lucky for the latter not to happen, but the former often occurred.

"Combat shield and Adeptus Mechanicus pattern Plasma Pistol, along with several hydrogen cells. Consider it a raise." Legion simply stated. Klaus stood up, as he took the combat shield, and looked it over. On the back, their was a small strap. A strap for an arm, he assumed. He stook his arm through, and fastened the strap. He flexed his arm slightly. The shield was now securely locked onto his arm.

"Touch the knob on the side." Legion said. Klaus glanced at the side of the shield, noticing a small little button right on the edge on the side facing him. He pressed it.

A faint shimmer of blue energy coated the side of the shield. Klaus let out a little 'oooh', noting that this was a dispersion field. Similar to the one on his power sword, except for the fact that while the power swords field of energy was specifically designed to cut, this one was simply made to repel. One thing he liked was that it left his left hand open, for where he would use his newly acquired weapon. He scooped up the said plasma pistol, testing its weight.

It would take him some time for him to adjust to using four weapons now, between the Bolter, the Power Sword, Plasma Pistol and the Combat Shield.

"Where… where did you get this?" He asked. Legion let out a sigh, and scratched the back of his helmet.

"Its… personal…" He grumbled, before he paused.

"I shall leave now. I have diplomatic business to attend to." He grumbled, as he quickly disappeared in a flash of red fire. Klaus blinked, before he glanced down at his weapons. He needed a holster, he told himself, as for now, he shoved the plasma pistol into his pocket, and left his tent, heading to the location that was disclosed to him. While he walked, he started to think about what that daemon said… was he genetically modified?

He chastised himself for even thinking about what that foul chaos spawn told him, but he couldn't help himself. Did he remember things that seemed… different? Well… now that he thought about it… their one was one suspicious moment...

/

Klaus sat down on the metal table, laying himself down. Mandatory inspection, he was told. Simple enough, even though he wasn't exactly sure why. He wouldn't question it, but he found it peculiar that no one in his unit had these exams. It was once per week, whenever they were on Kreig, anyways.

He was wearing nothing but his undershirt and under pants, having taken off his greatcoat and gasmask and helmet at the door. He was sitting in a cold and dim room, with the only source of light being a dusty lamp that hung from the ceiling. After a few minutes of waiting, several quartermasters walked in. They were fully geared in standard wargear, though instead of lasguns, they had clipboards, syringes, and strange machines. Following the trio, were two figures. Klaus raised an eyebrow in surprise.

One was Watchmaster 990231-667123 'Unnachgiebig'. He was dressed in a thick and dark greatcoat, with blazing yellow lenses inserted into his gasmasks. His studded leather gloves were clenched behind his back, while his greatcoat was covered with medals and purity seals. He brushed some dust off his finely decorated shoulders, and glanced at him with a gaze that could disassemble hive cities, and break the most disciplined warriors. The other was Meister von Medizin. That was what he called himself, at least. He was dressed similar to the other quarter masters, though his face was exposed. His crystal green eyes were analyzing every movement that he made with an almost predatory look. Klaus never admitted it, but the Meitzer von Medizin kind of… eerie.

"Make this quick Meister von Medizin. I have duties to attend." Unnachgiebig hissed. Meister von Medizin nodded his head, and clapped his hands. The quartermaster's immediately sprung to action, as they held Klaus down. He didn't struggle. This wasn't new.

"652733-172948. Klaus. How are you?" Meister von Medizin asked politely, as he slowly walked around the table, as one of the quartermasters prepared a syringe filled with golden amber liquid, preparing to insert it into the vein in his neck. Klaus didn't answer. The Meister paused, before he chuckled.

Do not worry. Unnachgiebig won't flay you for not asking for permission." He replied calmly. Klaus still glanced at the Watchmaster, who was sitting in the corner, giving him a deadly look.

"Unnachgiebig, do I have authority to reply?" Klaus asked. Unnachgiebig snorted, as he pulled out a knife from his belt, and began to flip it between his fingers.

"Granted." He said from gritted teeth. Klaus glanced back at Meitzer, as the syringe was shoved into his neck. He winced slightly, as the quartermaster pushed the syringes plunger down, draining the liquid into his bloodstream.

"It's been going good." He asked. The Meister smiled slightly, his wrinkled and pale face moving with the action.

"This is good. How old are you now?" The Meister asked. Klaus did some quick math in his head.

"Fifteen." He replied. The Meister gave him a glance.

"Kriegen years or Terran years?" He asked.

"Kriegen." Klaus replied. The Meister nodded.

"How many days in a Kriegen year?"

"455 days." Klaus replied. The Meister nodded again, and snapped his fingers. One of the quartermasters holding the strange machine came forward.

"Sit up." The Meitzer demanded. Klaus did so, as he moved his legs over the side of the table.

"Prepare the dataslates." The Meister demanded. The quartermaster who had the syringe nodded, as he walked over to the edge of the room, and began to type into a console. Klaus's head was brought to the side, as The Meister took the machine from the quartermasters hands, and began to apply it on Klaus. The steely machine clamped around his skull with an iron grip, as a needle and a small cylindrical device began to slowly drag themselves towards his right eye. The cylinder let out a hiss, as some gas let it self out of the cylinders many holes. Anesthetics. Several metal clamps opened up from the machine, and secured themselves around his eyelid, forcing his right eye open as wide as possible.

"Stay still." The Meister hissed, smiling slightly, as the needle came closer and closer. Klaus opened his eye as wide as possible, as the needle began to drill itself into his cornea. The computer screen behind him let out a computerized beep, as thousands of lines of code began to come across the device. The needle stopped drilling into his eye, and sat there for a few agonizing minutes. Klaus literally could not move, as the clamp had kept his head firmly stuck in position, along with several pairs of hands holding his body down at the same time.

Unnachgiebig got up from his seat, and walked towards the computer, as finally the needle embedded in his eye retracted itself. A small chip came out of the machine, one that Meister von Medizin grabbed eagerly. He then bolted to the monitor, and plugged the chip in. Klaus wasn't allowed to look behind him, as the three quartermasters began to take the machine off of his head. It was a slow and deliberate process, but finally, it came off.

Klaus rubbed his eye slightly, getting a bead of blood on his fingers. He then glanced behind him.

The Meister von Medizin and Unnachgiebig were looking at all of those lines of code. Klaus could recognize some high gothic in their too, along with several dialects too advanced for him to understand.

"Damn…" Unnachgiebig grumbled. Klaus duly glanced at them for a few moments, before the Meitzer turned around, and smiled.

"Interesting data Klaus." The Meister said, grinning slightly. Unnachgiebig nodded his head towards him. Klaus was slightly confused. What exactly did he do?

"It seems that the experiment was a success… so far." Unnachgiebig whispered, barely audible. Klaus supposed it was a new combat drug that they had injected into him. Though why they needed information from his sensory networks, was anyones guess.

"Now. Dispose of the witnesses." Meister demanded. Unnachgiebig nodded, as he reached into his holster, pulling out a bolt pistol. He pointed it at the three quartermasters, who were currently unaware of what was happening, as they were quietly talking to each other. A few quick pulls of the trigger, and each of them had collapsed to the ground, their heads in utter ruins, blood splattering everything. Klaus didn't say anything, only feeling a slight pang for his fallen brothers. They should have died on the field of battle. Not here.

"I'll have custodians clean this mess up. I have business to attend to." Unnachgiebig growled, as he fastened his bolt pistol, clasped his hands behind his back, and left the two of them. Meister von Medizin glanced at Klaus.

"How do you feel about your partner… Karen?" He asked. Klaus shrugged.

"A trooper who follows orders, and does them well. Nothing else can be said." He simply said. Meister nodded.

"Very well then. I'll have you two scheduled for another… cooperative appointment next week. Go." Meister demanded. Klaus nodded, stepping over the bodies of the dead quartermasters, as he began to put on his greatcoat and helmet and gasmask, before he closed the door.

/

Hell, that was really the only noticeable event that happened in his life that could really relate to something like that. It could describe the bond that he had with Karen. And the fact that she could possibly be alive…

"No. Stop thinking about that. You're pathetic already. No need to degrade yourself further." Grenadier Klaus hissed from his shoulder. Klaus gave his subconscious a glare, before he glanced back at the tent. He was here. A few pairs of heavy feet hit the ground, which were followed by heavy footsteps. The tent flap opened, revealing Bluddflagg. Klaus raised his eyes in surprise, as the ork grinned.

"Dere ya are! I wuz wonderin where ya were." Bluddflagg grinned. He took a swig of alcohol from a small barrel, and belched.

"Get in here ya twat. We got alcohol, cards… everyfing a propa ork culd eva ask fer!" Bluddflagg grinned, as he forcefully shoved Klaus inside the tent, closing the flap behind him. Klaus glanced at the table. Their was Melm, Amora, the Draenei and… Lofn.

"A bit late laddie, we already started the game without you." Melm stated, gesturing to the cards on the table. Klaus noticed that they had all taken off their armor and weapons, leaving them by the door. Klaus sighed, as he began to put away every weapon he had, putting them into a neat little spot in the corner. He sat down at the round table, while Bluddflagg merely sat down on the ground.

"What are we playing?" Klaus asked. Bluddflagg snorted, a puff of air going out through his tattered nostrils, moving the nose ring that was embedded in the membrane.

"Poker. I'll give ya bit of me pot." Bluddflagg said, pushing a small clump of wooden chips towards him. Klaus took the chips, looking at the value. Around 5000. It seemed that the ante was around 10000. Melm stood up, and dealt two cards to each player at the table. Lofn wasn't playing, but was instead giving him and Amora rather uncomfortable glare. He glanced at his cards, peaking at it from underneath the table. A two of aces and a seven of hearts. Not a good hand. Bluddflagg and the draenei shoved a few chips forward. Blinds.

"Humie. Its yer turn." Bluddflagg grumbled. Klaus pushed his cards forward, and slumped back.

The ork snorted, unimpressed.

"So, how did the three of you meet?" Melm asked casually, as Bluddflagg called, shoving a small amount of chips with his massive powa klaw. Amora pushed her cards forward, glancing at Bluddflagg for a few moments.

"It's… complicated." Klaus replied. The dwarf chuckled.

"Everything in life is complicated. One thing leads to another, and to another and to another." The dwarf said, as he pushed a large amount of chips forward. Judging by the color palette on the sides, it was nearly two thousand. Bluddflagg whistled, as he peeked at his cards again. The draenei folded her cards, moving her… 'hair' out of the way. Bluddflagg glared at his cards, and grinned

"Toime ta separate da boyz from da grots." He sneered, as he called the bet. Melm stood up on his chair, and dealt the flop. A king of spades, a six of hearts, and a five of clubs.

"So how did you… three, meet?" Lofn asked, as she went back to giving Klaus such an intense look that he felt like she was tapping into his mind. Melm grinned, rubbing his beard with his fingers, his brown eyes glancing at her.

"I met Valette-" he said, gesturing to the draenei to his right, who merely smirked. "Back during the Burning Crusade. We were one of the first ones to cross the stair of destiny, and enter the blasted lands of Outworld. We were-" He was then interrupted by a quick elbow nudge by Valette. He glanced up at her, before he chuckled.

"Right… she doesn't like to talk about it." Melm said, blushing slightly. Klaus raised an eyebrow at that. Where they once engaged? How did such a relationship even work, let alone be possible? Where their any moral or religious codes that prevented such a thing? Melm then glanced at the cards on the table, and pushed some more chips.

"Call." He grumbled. Bluddflagg hooted, as he shoved everything he had forward.

"All in stunty!" He shouted. The whole table let out either a whistle or a cry of surprise. The dwarf seemed surprised, before he grinned, and shoved all of his chips into the massive pot. Melm then stood up, and dealt the turn. An ace of spades. He then dealt the river. A three of diamonds.

They flipped their cards. Bluddflagg had a pair of sixes, giving him a three of a kind. Melm revealed his hand, showing a king of hearts and an ace of clubs, giving him a two pair.

"Damn!" He shouted, slamming his fist on the table, while Bluddflagg chuckled, raking in all of the chips to his side of the table.

"Don't worry stunty! Ya can still be da dealer." Bluddflagg smirked, as he let out a hearty guffaw shortly after. The dwarf grumbled, as he pulled out a bottle of alcohol out of his beard.

"Yeah yeah…" He grumbled, taking a swig of it, before he wiped his mouth. Klaus took a moment to realise that Melm had a frakking bottle of beer hidden in his beard. He didn't know if that was awesome, or horrifying. Melm then dealt the next hand.

"Hey, Lofn! Pass me the alcohol! Should be in the chest over there." Melm grumbled. Lofn stood up, and walked away, as Klaus glanced at his hands. A pair of eights. Now this was something he could work with. He and Amora paid the blinds. The Blood Elf gave him a glance with her beautiful emerald eyes, before she glanced back at her chips.

"Call." Her sanguine voice said, as she flicked a few chips forward. Valette glanced at the chips, and sighed.

"I shall call." She said. Klaus noticed that her voice sounded strangely… Vostroyan, for some reason. Or perhaps Valhallan, though he never met one. Lofn gave the chest to Melm, who slammed it onto the table.

"Alright! Who wants a drink?" Melm offered, pulling out several bottles of brew. Klaus glanced at the dwarf, who was giving him a kind look. Klaus didn't normally drink. However, he supposed one couldn't hurt.

/

Sylvanas Windrunner sat in her personal throne room, alone. The orc guards that had been stationed here were long sleeping, and it was nearly pitch black in her chamber, the only source of light being the small number of torches that were hung up, strapped to the many pillars. She tapped her fingers against the armrest on her throne, before she stood up, and walked down the steps. The Banshee Queen had been sitting and thinking for hours, creating plots and schemes within her twisted frame of mind.

Then, she heard a footstep. She paused, her red eyes slowly tracing the darkness of the room. In an instant, her bow was drawn, and an arrow was fired. The twisted black arrow let out a wailing scream, as it landed right into a shadowy figure that formed in the darkness. It slowly walked forward. Sylvanas paused. She had seen this being before.

The nearly even foot tall behemoth glanced at her, before the arrow that was lodged firmly in its head. It grabbed the arrow, and yanked it out, before it crushed it in its hand.

"It's going to take a lot more than that to kill me." The being hissed, it's ethereal and haunting voice amplified by a cloud of darkness, as it suddenly rushed forward. Sylvanas rolled out of the way, as she fired several more arrows from her bow. The being simply stood there, as it took each arrow without consideration. It then began to walk forward, holding its hand up.

The Dark Lady continued to fire arrow after arrow, steadily draining her quiver. The being still walked forward, arrows being lodged into its neck, helmet, hand, fingers. One lodged itself into its eye, and it growled, stumbling backward.

"This is getting tedious, Sylvanas. I merely wish to talk." It growled, ripping the arrow out of its head, and crushing it in his hand. The Dark Queen notched another arrow, taking a few steps back. However, it suddenly disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

A massive hand snatched her by the throat from behind. with such force that it nearly broke her neck. She was lifted into the air, her bow falling from her fingers. Luckily, Forsaken didn't need to breath, as she slowly reached for a dagger that was hidden in her cloak.

She was then slammed against the wall, the steel blade clattering to the ground.

"I wouldn't even try it… Dark Lady." It grumbled, before it slowly walked to her throne, and forcefully sat her down. The Banshee Queen gave the being a hateful glare.

"What do you want?" She demanded.

"An army." He replied, as he slowly walked away, stopping just a few meters away. He was looking into the distance, his hands clasped behind his back.

"You barge into my throne room into the dead of night, seize me, throw me on my throne and you have the gall, the audacity, to demand an army from me?" Sylvanas hissed.

"That's the summary." Legion shrugged. She couldn't even believe what she was about to say.

"I'm listening. Make it quick." She snapped.

/

Deep within the catacombs of the daemon world of Terra, Sorcerer Lord Tugan was deep in thought. The Dark Custodes escorted him to his chamber for the eternal night.

They were dressed in midnight black armor and gold trimmings, tens of thousands of chaos runes and sigils scratched into their armor and skin. In their hands were mighty daemonic halberds. They had clutched these weapons for so long that it had permanently melded with their flesh and bones, becoming part of their body. From their thin slit in their daemonic helmet were beady and empty eyes, soulless orbs that watched everything with a deep malice and hatred.

"The God Lord demands that your work be finished by morning, or you shall be next on inside the sacrificial pits." One of the Dark Custodes said, its voice twisted and tormented into a deep and dark mumble of hatred.

"Of course. I have not failed him before, I shall not again." Tugan said, nodding at the Dark Custodes. The pair of daemonic guards glanced at each other before they chuckled, as one opened the door for him. Tugan stepped into his chambers, the door being slammed shut behind him. Tugan sighed, scratching his bald head. It was not easy being a magistrate for the God Lord of Mankind. Ever since he had embraced the truth of chaos and half of his sons rebelled against him, The God Lord had increasingly demanded more and more from him. For ten thousand years he had served The God Lord of mankind. He had watch empires flourish and fall. The rise of the Ork khanate, led by Urzog Godkrumpa, which nearly controlled half of the galaxy before it fell apart from a brutal coup, to the steady increase of power in the Tau empire, to the disgusting rebels of the Loyalists, led by the filthy traitor Horus, who now hid in the farthest expanses of the galaxy. Scum, the lot of them.

Tugan sighed, as he felt the twisted wood of his Bedlam staff, and sighed. He was so close to achieving his greatest accomplishment. He couldn't possibly fail now.

He pulled up a chair and sat down, as one of his familiars walked up to him, a daemonette of slaanesh. In her twisted claws was a fine bottle of wine, with the hint of innocent soul. Just the way he liked it. He smirked, as he took the bottle from the daemonettes grasp. It walked away, making sure he got a good view of her behind. He paid her little attention, as he popped the cork of the champagne. It splashed against his form, as he suckled on the mouth of the bottle like a baby would suck on a tit.

"I would not dare underestimate Slaanesh's perverse glory." He said to himself, grinning slightly. It was good, he had to admit.

He sat at his desk, as he opened a massive tome of knowledge, found in the abandoned Black Library itself. Ever since the Eldar race had been wiped out, many teams of explorers came back with new forbidden knowledge, dredged up in the remains of these vaults. It was with this knowledge, that Tugan could explore his greatest work yet.

Tugan glanced up, hearing footsteps. The sorcerer lord turned behind him, and gasped. He then smiled slightly.

"Son! I did not know you were here!" He said, as he stood up, and embraced his offspring in a hug.

"The days have not been kind to you Tugan. My pilgrimage to the warp must have been longer then I thought!" His son said. Tugan stepped back, taking a good long look at him.

Standing six feet tall, Tugan's son was nothing to scoff at. Though he was not a chaos space marine, Tugan was still proud. He wore black and red armor, the mark of undivided painted onto his chest. Slightly red eyes glanced up at him, as Tugan ruffled his black hair with his hand. He was armed with his standard weaponry. For melee, his son used a Black Blade, a daemon weapon that was not aligned with any particular god. The Black Blade was a sword that had a blade dark as midnight with no sheen. It was like an unholy obsidian, though its user constantly whispered to its user, propelling them to ever greater acts of violence. He was also gifted with a Kai Gun by a notable Dark Priest, from the same system. The Kai Gun was also a daemon weapon, that used the hatred of its user as ammunition. When their were so many loyalists and xenos that lived freely, obviously it had plenty of ammunition to go around.

"Sualk, my boy! I am so glad you have returned." Tugan said with a smirk. Sualk glanced behind Tugan, and frowned.

"You are STILL pursuing this fruitless endeavor?" He asked with a frown. Tugan glanced behind him and sighed, as he grabbed the tome, and flipped through it.

"I am so close son. So close. I only need a little more time." Tugan mumbled, as he began to mumble an incantation, waving his staff around.

"Tzeentch is fickle with his followers. I do not doubt that he is playing you for a fool." Sualk said. Tugan shrugged, and then hissed, as the spell fizzled and died in his hands.

"Damnation…" he growled to himself, before he sighed.

"Tell me, how has the Death Korps been treating you?" He asked, as he flipped through the book, trying another spell. Sualk sighed.

"It has been good. We are the most prestigious of the Chaotic Guard, no doubt about that. However I will admit I feel spoiled around my brethren." Sualk sighed. Tugan smirked.

"Their is no shame in admitting your ancestry. You were born on the daemon world of Terra itself! There is no greater honor." Tugan said. Sualk smirked.

"I suppose not." He said, as he took a step back, and watched his father attempt another spell.

Tugan began to speak an incomprehensible gibberish, his mouth and body twitching uncontrollably, as a portal opened right in front of Sualk. He gasped in surprise, who was trying to fit on his daemonic gas mask.

Tugan smiled, as he continued to chant in a frenzy. However, Tugan then realized something. His spell hadn't worked to begin with. It had failed a long time ago. That meant one thing. That this dimensional portal… it wasn't his.

It began to violently suck everything in around it. Tomes of forbidden knowledge, skulls and bones, and pieces of flesh were sucked in immediately, followed by his own flesh and blood.

"No!" Tugan shouted, as he held on for dear life. The suction of the portal stopped, as an ork stepped out. His eyes widened in surprise, only for a gun to be pointed at his head.

"Sorry bud. Can't have any competishun." The ork snarled, as he pulled the trigger to the bolt pistol.

A shot was fired, that landed right in Tugan's eye. The warhead exploded, completely shredding the inside of his skull and the skin around it, leaving a disgusting bloody mess, as his cranium caved in. His body fell to the floor with a thump, and the ork chuckled, before he let out a mighty cough, and spat right on his body.

Unkle sighed, as he shoved the pistol back into his belt, as he pulled out a few Molotov cocktails, and lit them with a match. He then chucked them at the forbidden library, burning them. He then glanced behind him, noticing a pair of boots that lay on the ground, right behind his portal. The orks eyes widened in surprise, as he went over, and picked them up.

"Uh oh. Dat can't be gud." He said with a frown, before he shrugged. He shoved the boots in his coat, and chuckled, jumping back into his own portal. Couldn't be anything too bad.

/

Right guys, got another question for you. Who is your favorite character so far? I would post a straw poll, but I don't think Fanfic would allow such a link,


	70. Chapter 69: The Passion of Outcasts

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So here is chapter 69. Sorry this took so long.

A massive majority of this chapter was written by Doomsdayguy12345. So props to him to typing this smut.

Also, I guess I should say this, but uh lemons.

Another Also, If you dont want to read this, dont worry. Your not missing anything plotwise.

Since this took so long, I released a second uber chapter.

So enjoy.

Sick fucks...

Klaus woozily walked himself to bed. By the emperor he… he drank way too much then he would have wanted to. He had to admit, that dwarf brew was pretty good. Pretty good. Though he wasn't completely wasted, he wasn't sober either. Grenadier Klaus hiccuped slightly, slowly hanging over his shoulder, while Priest Klaus threw up all over his robes.

"We… we drank too much." Klaus mumbled, as he opened his tent flap, dumping his weapons on the side of his flap, before he slumped onto the ground, pushing his face right against the cold dirt. He blew a bit of air into his hair, getting it out of his eyes. He lay there for a few minutes, in a rather uncomfortable position for him.

Now, he didn't particularly enjoy alcohol. In fact, it was taboo in his eyes, as it impaired movement, senses, logic and thought process. Which was necessary, in any situation imaginable. However, he wouldn't deny it if he was ordered to, or if it was for a celebration. And it was in these cases.

Bluddflagg won the poker game. Somehow. Despite having a horrible poker face (as in, he nearly destroyed the table when he got a poor hand) he still managed to knock each and every player out. In fact, in the end it was between Bluddflagg and Amora. Amora played well, but it seemed that alcohol did not impair Bluddflagg. In Fact, it seemed to improve his abilities. In poker. Maybe. The prizes were… interesting, to say the least.

Bluddflagg won himself a gold coin. Amora, coming second place, won another bottle of beer. Lofn, who played in the next round, somehow managed to get third. She won some rope. Klaus didn't play the second round, simply because he didn't feel like it.

He groaned, fixing his position, when he heard footsteps. He couldn't be bothered to even lift his head to check who it was. He had to talk to Fordring. To warn him of the danger that lied ahead.

Klaus tried to get up, but then he slumped back onto the ground. Eh. He would do it tomorrow.

He was about to get some shuteye, when someone walked into his tent. He glanced at the figure, before he realized who it was. It was Lofn.

Klaus was still furious at her for her betrayal of his trust, but right now he was a bit worried. Lofn drank. A lot. Klaus was pretty sure the eldar body was not used to drinking alcohol, since in theory it really was just poison. She drunkenly stumbled forward, before she suddenly pounced on him, shoving him down. Even though he already was, simply just making him bump his head into the ground.

"Lofn? What are yo-" He demanded, before she forced her lips on his. It was a tangible explosion of emotion and warmth as they met. His eyes were wide in surprise, while his two sub personalities watched from an elevated position. Priest Klaus was eating from a bowl of popcorn, keeping his feet up with a footstool, while Grenadier Klaus frantically ran around, panicking.

"This is NOT GOOD. NOT GOOD. How the hell can we stop this? He barely knows what's going on!" Grenadier Klaus screeched. Priest Klaus shrugged, wiping the green stain on his white robes away.

"What can we do?" Priest Klaus asked. Grenadier Klaus glanced at him, before he sighed.

"Not watch. Creep." Grenadier Klaus snapped. Priest Klaus shrugged slightly.

"Listen, it's not like we can choose to not be in the backseat." Priest Klaus retorted.

"That doesn't give you permission to watch them make out." Grenadier Klaus snapped.

"You got a better idea?" Priest Klaus asked. Grenadier Klaus scratched his head, and sighed.

"Er-"

"No. Shut up, sit down, and eat popcorn." Priest Klaus said, flinging a handful into his mouth.

The young Kriegsman's sapphire blue eyes blinked rapidly as Lofn's tongue found its way into his mouth, he was too stunned to respond to the Eldar woman's advances, her tongue tangled and played with his own as her fingers ever so gently began unbuttoning his trench coat, button by button, slowly parting the armored coat to his regimental tunic underneath. She forcefully pulled the tunic apart, sending two buttons flying within the tent, exposing Klaus's pale, scarred upper body.

Grenadier Klaus and Priest Klaus both spat out what they were eating, looking back at each other in shock.

"HOLY SHIT!" They both screamed.

Klaus tried to push the Eldar off but her hands caught his, she pinned them behind his head as their kiss broke, quickly she pulled a piece of rope out from one of her pockets and bound his hands in a relaxed knot, not too hard for it to be uncomfortable, but enough to keep him from moving his hands from moving without her permission. Klaus realized with wide eyes what she had done. That bitch! She tied him up with the rope she won! He glanced at the rope as best as he could. He then snarled. It was a Geiger knot, a knot that was stupidly hard to break! So that's why she asked how to do it yesterday...

The Kriegsman grimaced at his Eldar companion, "Unhand me you-"

"Shhhhhhhh…" Lofn whispered with her index finger against his lips, "Be quiet."

Klaus's mind fumed as he begrudgingly did as the xeno asked, after all, if someone walked in right now after hearing the utter tirade he was about to unleash it would be rather embarrassing. Worse than that, Klaus knew that Bluddflagg was sleeping in their area. If that ork woke up, and saw this, Klaus knew that he would be tormented till the day either he, or the filthy ork died. Silently he stared up at Lofn's eyes, he was wary of the unfamiliar look that her eyes held. Alcohol must make the Eldar incredibly bold, because right now he was beginning to register that this unclean THING just kissed him and was currently holding him in a very compromising state. Klaus then slowly tried to reach into his belt to take his knife, to cut himself loose. Or to kill her. Or maybe both, if he wanted to be efficient. His fingers scraped and scratched the butt of the monoedged knife, but it was too far for him to reach.

"SHIT!" Grenadier Klaus screamed, covering his mouth in horror, while Priest Klaus began to frantically pace around.

"We have to stop him, before he does something irredeemably stupid!" Priest Klaus demanded. The two personalities began to form a plan, glancing back at their host with worried glances.

A devious smirk appeared on the Eldar woman's lips, one of her fingers traced Klaus's jaw line gently, the Kriegsman in question however frowned at her, he bared his teeth in a low growl to illustrate his displeasure. She giggled lowly pinching his cheek, "You're cute when you're angry."

"Shut up witch." He growled struggling against his bonds, "I'm going to wring your neck and rip out your spi-"

Before Klaus could finish his threat however his eyes went wide and his tongue stayed tied, while he had been struggling Lofn had loosened her robes and tossed the restricting material off to the side in the tent, revealing her slender body and what one would call a corset, covering her breasts. Klaus was breathless as he watched her slowly remove the small piece of fabric, treating his eyes to the sight of Lofn's bountiful breasts and two perky pink nipples. Klaus blinked once, his face frozen in a mix of horror and arousal. He was silent for a moment, before he silently began praying for forgiveness, fearing what might come next.

"Grenadier Klaus! She's undressing!" Priest Klaus screamed, as Grenadier Klaus began to tie up some imaginary rope to rappel down to the ground.

"I'm working on it!" Grenadier Klaus snapped back, as he finished tying it to a loose nail on the table. Grenadier Klaus ran off to the edge, and jumped.

Heat rushed to the Korpsman's face as he tried to look away from the exposed alien, but he could not help it, the more primal of Human urges started to take command over his body, his mouth felt drier than sand as he swallowed hard, his legs twitched uncomfortably as he steadily became very aroused, his life of training has seemingly been brushed aside by his teenage hormones.

Lofn had noticed too, the smile on her drunken face could be described as one of genuine smugness, she was getting the reaction she wanted from her mon-keigh Guardsman. She leaned her head and at a slow pace brought her tongue from just above his belly button all the way up to his chin, making Klaus inadvertently inhale deep from the sensation, showing his ribcage for a second before grunting in pleasure as sensations shocked throughout his body.

Their lips met again, this time however Klaus tried to kiss her with more gusto, in a very sloppy instinctive action. Lofn separated their lips and pushed him against the ground, whispering in his ear huskily, "Slower Klaus, slower."

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!" Grenadier Klaus shouted, as he began to rappel down from the table to the ground. Meanwhile, Priest Klaus looked around in desperation, before he saw someone that could stop this. Melm.

The pot bellied dwarf was lying in the corner of the tent, a teddy bear sleeping bag pulled all the way up to his hidden chin. The dwarf was snoring quietly, each inhale and exhale moving a little pompom on his hat, which was now coated with saliva and mucus, as with every snore, a web of spit erupted from his mouth.

Klaus growled in response as he tried to break the rope around his wrists, he wanted to get his hands on her, but she once again held them against the ground, taunting him with her unquestioned dominance in this situation. She hovered over him, enjoying the look on his face, noticing his eyes darting from her face to her assets as they hung just out of his reach, her right hand grasped his by the nape of his neck while her left hand pulled his hands behind her head.

Before Klaus realized it, he was face first in between Lofn's warm and ampule breasts. On a primal whim, he began licking and kissing the mounds of soft flesh, his tongue found one of her pink, perky nipples and started swirling it with his tongue, tugging and sucking with his lips, making Lofn shudder in a state of ecstasy as she bit her lower lip to cover what would've been a very loud moan.

Grenadier Klaus slammed onto the ground, as he began to run towards Klaus. He grabbed onto his hair, and started to pull himself up to Klaus's ear to stop this madness.

Klaus pulled Lofn's body closer as he started to suck her soft her nipple more intensely, making loud suction noises every time his lips tugged until they popped off her nipple. Lofn dug her nails into Klaus's scalp as she tried to control her breathing, lest everyone in the camp hears what they were doing, her left hand had snuck down between the both of them, down her pants and between her panties as she furiously rubbed her clitoris, her panties were already soaked as her arousal began to really manifest inside of her body.

She caught Klaus's right earlobe between her teeth and gently ground it between her teeth, getting a gruff moan from her Kriegsman, "Lie down."

The lad hadn't the time to protest or respond to her request before his back slammed against the soft dirt, he was about to voice his displeasure but the Eldar had grabbed his mouth with one hand and slid her wet, odd tasting fingers into his mouth, Klaus began to suck and wriggle his tongue around these fingers as he found the taste to be oddly intoxicating.

She pulled her fingers from his lips and stood at her full height, "Don't move."

Grenadier Klaus got right up to Klaus's ear, and began to scream at him.

"GET UP! STOP THIS MADNESS, BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!" He roared. Klaus did not respond. Grenadier Klaus paled slightly, as he snapped his fingers. No response again.

"Shit! The alcohol got to him!" Grenadier Klaus snapped in anger, driving his toe right into Klaus's skull, before he yipped in pain. He started hopping around, clenching his boot.

Klaus obeyed, lying on the cold ground as his eyes locked onto her smooth unclothed form, his mind racing with thoughts of ravaging her body, her face contorted into one of absolute ecstasy screaming his name at the top of her lungs.

"Grenadier Klaus!" Priest Klaus screamed from the table. Grenadier Klaus looked up, following his finger, pointing to the sleeping dwarf in the corner. Yes! If they could somehow wake him up, they could stop this!

A smug grin with underlying lustful intentions crossed Lofn's lips as she saw Klaus's eyes concentrating on her form, the tent in his pants and his fidgeting legs told her that she was getting exactly what she wanted, but she still wanted to play with her boy for a bit before they actually started getting… intimate.

Her thumbs dipped into her trousers and at a slow, tortuous pace for the Kriegsman, began to push her pants down, Lofn was sure to give Klaus something to look at, something to lust for as she made sure to give him a little shake of her ample ass, noticing his wolfish eyes and painfully aroused growl, she kept him down with her foot planted against his chest.

Once her trousers were down by her ankles she kicked them off to the side, she shook her hips with her fine ass facing Klaus, sliding her panties down and around her ankles. The look on Klaus's face was almost pleading as his eyes stared up at the Eldar woman, begrudgingly, be it from the alcohol clouding his senses, or perhaps something else, something forbidden, he wanted her.

Grenadier Klaus and Priest Klaus were now running towards the dwarf, nearly colliding into the sleeping abhuman. Priest Klaus began to bat at his exposed ankle, while Grenadier Klaus started to make his way to yank and pull at his beard.

"Here." She bent down and pressed her still wet panties in his face, "Do you like that?"

Klaus hadn't answered, but the way he was inhaling her scent like a gas mask told Lofn what she wanted to hear. She knelt on both knees right over Klaus's face, removing her panties from his face she grabbed him by his hair and pulled him right between her legs, rubbing her wet slit against his lips with a husky moan leaving her lips.

His tongue without even consulting his brain went from her base all the way just under her clitoris, lapping up and down as he pressed it further between her folds, determined to lick up all of the intoxicating juice, his lips pressed up against her pussy's outer lips as tightly as he could, if his hands were not bound there would definitely be far more that he could do to pleasure Lofn.

Grenadier Klaus and Priest Klaus stopped beating the sleeping dwarf, wheezing. Despite putting up a good effort, it seemed that it was all for nothing.

"It won't work! Why wont it work?!" Grenadier Klaus demanded, slamming his fist into the ground. Priest Klaus whipped around, grabbing him by the coattails.

"FOOL! We are personalities! Objects of his frakking imagination! We can't frakking interact with the mortal world, you wheezing retard!" Priest Klaus shouted back. They both looked at Klaus with horror, as Lofn continued to torment him. If Klaus woke up to find out about this… their was no telling what he would do, not only to Lofn, but to himself in the process. Suicide was taboo, but after this… it might just happen.

"K-klaus…" Lofn moaned through one of her hands, she had to clamp her mouth shut otherwise the camp would be scurrying to find the banshee within their mists as she without a doubt would probably wake the dead with her screaming, her hips ground against Klaus's mouth slowly as her free hand twisted and pulled on her left nipple, she felt his tongue explore in a way no one has ever touched her, her breath hitched as she found that in her state of ecstasy and awe that an orgasm was fast approaching, though she was far from being done for the night.

Without warning she came, both hands clamped over her mouth, Klaus had little time to respond as the Eldar came off on him, her juice flowed down his cheeks and chin, down past his neck and chest, he coughed twice panting for air. This however was but a small break as he was once again on his back, he saw the pleased and still very lustful smile on Lofn's face grow.

Klaus licked his lips as traces of Lofn's juice remained, he saw she had spread her legs on the ground and was beckoning him with her right index finger. Without hesitation or shame he was on his elbows with his face buried between the Eldar's legs, his tongue this time circling her clitoris, flicking it rapidly, two fingers spreading and adventuring within her tight walls.

"Oh that's disgusting!" Grenadier Klaus screeched, while Priest Klaus started to throw up all over his robes again.

Lofn's left hand gripped Klaus's head as she felt him sucking on her clit like he had been sucking on her nipples, her right hand was holding her right breast up to her mouth as she began licking and sucking her own nipple desperately for more pleasure, her breathing was rapid and warm, at the pace Klaus was going there was no doubt in the young Eldar's mind that she was going to cum again.

Klaus's face was once again sprayed by the Eldar's orgasm, his face, chest, even his pants had been hit her intense orgasm. Before a word was shared she had once again pushed him to the ground, "Will you make your mind up already?" He growled in both anger and arousal. He was very conflicted on what to feel. On one hand, we wanted to strangle her with his bare hands. On the very opposite hand… he wanted to see where this was going, and that perhaps was the worst part out of all of this. Not that this was happening, but because he wanted it to.

Lofn giggled at the Kriegsman's irritation, but she had an idea of why he was also upset, here she was unable to control herself and had been so greedy as to orgasm twice without giving Klaus so much as an inkling of pleasure, how rude of her, though a devious smirk made its way on the Eldar's face, greatly concerning Klaus as he watched her with anticipation and horror.

She had slid back, down to Klaus's knees, her eyes concentrating on the tent his pants had made, her fingers snaked their way up to the helm of his pants, sliding down to the belt buckle she slowly undid, making sure to brush her wrists against the tent, making Klaus groan in frustration. Lofn made sure to unbutton his pants very slowly with her breasts just barely brushing up against his tent, she slid the zipper down at a cruel rate as Klaus looked about ready to rip his own pants off.

With three tugs Lofn had his pants around his boots, his Imperial guard underwear being the only thing covering Klaus's black boxers, Lofn licked her lips seeing some of Klaus's pre-cum had shown where his cocks head was, but she wasn't going to take these off just yet, she after all wanted to play with her toy for a while longer. She molded her breasts around his clothed cock and started to pull them up and down, making the fabric strain against the head, her lips curled in satisfaction as his jaw tightened and his face grimaced.

"Ggggghhh!" Klaus groaned as Lofn continued to torture him with her breasts, "Damnit!"

Lofn licked her lips, catching Klaus's eye, her fingers tugged his boxers down quickly, his cock smacked her cheek at the sudden removal of clothing, almost immediately she took his cock and steadily began pumping with her soft pale hand. A very cruel smile crossed her lips as she saw Klaus gasp and groan in welcomed pleasure, but his Kriegan discipline seemed to try and make a comeback as he was doing his best to keep a straight emotion void face.

Lofn's grip became more slick and fast as Klaus's pre-cum was making his shaft nice and wet, sparing no time Lofn flanked his cock with both of her breasts and began pumping them up and down, with one arm holding both breasts around his dick her free hand fondled his balls, her mouth close enough to his cock to start licking the pre-cum from its head.

"THAT'S IT!" Grenadier Klaus screamed, as he began to storm his way towards Klaus's head. Priest Klaus stifled his stomach, as he quickly followed him.

"What are you doing?!" Priest Klaus shouted. Grenadier Klaus whipped around, glancing him right in the eye.

"I'M ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL!" Grenadier Klaus snapped.

Klaus's Kriegan stoicism faltered as the Eldar woman's tongue danced around his cock's head, pride wouldn't let him voice the pleasure he felt vocally, instead he grunted and groaned, unused to this feeling however he was coming close to the edge, he had a suspicion that Lofn knew it too. She moved back again, removing her breasts from Klaus's shaft, her hand gripped it and began to pump up and down in long and drawn out strides, her tongue helped scoop his balls into her mouth, getting a gasp out of Klaus as he clenched his fists.

Deep breathes and long exhales helped Klaus keep his composure and if not help cool his jets so he wouldn't cum too early, prayers within his head also helped, but they reminded him of his hypocrisy as he was consorting with a xeno, but his punishment would have to wait, at least until after this was over.

/

Grenadier and Priest Klaus bolted forward, violently pushing their way deep into the recesses of Klaus's subconscious. While the conscious was full of the emperors teachings and cults believes, there was no such thing in the subconscious. It was a primal part of every human's brains, still believing in the teachings their ancestors had planted in it from tens of millions of years ago. Finally, they stopped, appearing in front of a large console. Of course, it was simply imaginary, but they still had large controls over Klaus's subconscious and preliminary thoughts.

"So that's why…" Grenadier Klaus growled. Priest Klaus raised an eyebrow, looking over the console.

"Why what?" He countered.

"It's not the alcohol… it's her." Grenadier Klaus stated, growling in disgust.

"Is she controlling him?" Priest Klaus demanded. Grenadier Klaus shook his head.

"She isnt controlling him. Shes influencing him." He simply said. He sighed, crossing his arms.

"So what does that mean?" Priest Klaus asked. Grenadier Klaus gave him a grim look, before he sighed.

"It means we can't do much." He grumbled. They both looked on in grim sadness, both trying to think of a way to solve this.

/

Believing that Klaus had more resistance to his urge to orgasm, Lofn stopping sucking on his balls and gave her attention back to his "gun", she gently brought the tip of her tongue up and down the underbelly of his shaft from the base, all the way to the head and back, she did this several times before taking his cock's head between her lips, where she began to suck softly.

Klaus craned his neck and kept eye contact with Lofn as she steadily bobbed her head up and down his shaft, pressing her soft succulent lips firmly against his throbbing hot cock, feeling his heartbeat through her lips, her tongue rubbed up the underside of his shaft as she continued to choke down his whole cock.

The Kriegsman reached down with his bound hands and tangled his fingers in Lofn's hair, with a firm grip he started to pull her head up and down with ease, initially pulling her face up to his head and all the way down to the hilt in slow long strides, but seeing as the Eldar had a very flexible gag reflex and from what he could tell from her gargled moans and rapidly moving left arm, she was enjoying being facefucked.

The strides however began to quicken in shorter paces, he had been pulling her face up and down his cock until Lofn on her own accord started to suck harder without his guiding hands, bobbing her head up and down as she felt him tense and twitch in her mouth, her tongue swirl around his throbbing meat as pre-cum leaked in heavier doses.

Klaus could no longer fight back his urges, he held the Eldar's head down on his cock he unleashed a hot steaming load into her mouth, her cheeks puffed as it seemed she might cough up his semen. Lofn however started swallowing, gulp after gulp, sucking harder to squeeze out more of his seed into her mouth.

Lofn's lips pulled hard as they went up Klaus's shaft, intent on getting every single last drop whilst cleaning the semen off his cock, at the tip she sucked her hardest, making the Korpsman curl his toes as she popped off his head. She parted her lips just slightly, showing that her tongue was swirling around the last of his load in her mouth, with a loud gulp she swallowed the last of the Kriegsman's seed.

Klaus panted as his whole body burned with sensations of pleasure and lust, sweat glistened off his body as his chest heaved up and down panting like a dog. Lofn's eyes sparkled with lust as she noticed that Klaus was still stiff even after his orgasm, she reasoned that it was his suppressed desire and hormones that have bubbled to the surface after years of suppression, maybe this was also some minor psyker tweaking of her own.

The Eldar brought her tongue along the underside of his shaft, flicking it as she reached his head again, she was going to use those years of suppressed desires to her advantage and continue playing with her newfound favorite toy. Said toy seemed rather eager to be played with as he struggled harder to break the rope, a cute display but she did not want him to have free hands any time soon.

Swiftly Lofn reached over Klaus and pushed his hands back down against the cold dirt with her left hand holding both hands together, she lifted herself up and with her right hand pulling the Kriegsman's cock underneath her slit, gently rubbing his head up and down from her base to her clit. Klaus seemed frustrated if not annoyed with the half breeds teasing, but seemed more relieved if not pleasantly surprised as she lowered herself down onto his cock.

Lofn gasped, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth at the initial sting of Klaus's penetration, but as it was with her Eldar side pain dissipated into pleasure mere seconds later, her lips curled into a small O as she felt a new wave of pleasure and lust ring out from her body, almost demanding for more sensation, almost as demanding as her frustrated Kriegsman who was bucking his hips and arching his back as he was helpless to do anything other than to just lie there.

Slowly her hips moved forward on their own accord, pleasant groans came from the Kriegsman as he watched the Eldar girl grasped her own breasts, firmly groping herself as she struggled to feel every sensation to its fullest, twisting and pulling her own nipples between her thumbs and index fingers, biting her lower lip to keep herself from moaning out loud and alerting everyone within earshot of their heretical personal love session.

Again, Klaus struggled with his bound hands, staring up at the Eldar with partial contempt, it was so selfish that she'd get him into this position in the first place but now that she made him want to consort with her she just makes him lie down and do nothing? With a quick intake of air, he looped his bound arms around the Eldar and pulled her down against his chest, her hands and breasts squished together and unable to move.

"Release me, now Witch…" He growled aggressively into her ear, but instead of making a threat he whispered softly surprising the Eldar, "please… I want to touch you."

A very pleased and smug grin came over the Eldar as she whispered back to Klaus.

"Say you love me first."

Klaus growled as he wanted to throttle her, he felt a hot flash across his face with indignation, "You- grrr, damnit, I love you, you sick sadistic witch."

Gently Lofn slipped her left hand free and reached up behind Klaus's head, tugging the one piece of rope that undid the whole damned bond. Klaus frowned realizing he could've undid it with his teeth if his mind wasn't so clouded, but now with his hands free he could now truly add something to this whole sinful experience he was now wholeheartedly apart of.

His hands rapidly moved around Lofn's body, as if trying to make up for lost time for not previously touching her, his hands soon went down her back and aggressively groped her butt, Lofn giggled against Klaus's cheek, her Kriegsman was more enthusiastic than she initially thought.

/

"Well… now what?" Grenadier Klaus hissed, slamming his hands into the console. Priest Klaus sighed heavily, looking at him.

"I uh… I don't know." He stated. The two personalities looked back at each other, and sighed. Suddenly, Priest Klaus had an idea.

"Well if we can't stop this… then we can make it favor us." He proposed. Grenadier Klaus furrowed his eyebrows at him, giving him a suspicious glare.

"What does that mean?" He demanded. Priest Klaus sighed.

"Something you won't like." He replied.

/

Pushing off the Kriegsman's chest she slid up his shaft slowly and slammed back down, groaning loudly, a bit too loud as Klaus had to sit up and cover her mouth, "Don't make so much noise dammit, or I'll gag you with something."

The drunk Eldar snickered behind Klaus's hand, wrapping her arms around his back closing the distance even further, she started slapping her hips against the Kriegsman's since they were so close, a purr came from the Eldar as her eyes fluttered at Klaus, his face a deep shade of red, he could barely make out what the alien was trying to convey through his hand but given how wet his palm was getting he wasn't too sure if he should let her mouth go.

Klaus grunted seemingly annoyed, this woman was intentionally taking her time to play with him, to push his buttons, but he realized as she was sliding up and down his manhood that he was in far more of a dominating position, perhaps it was time to take this ordeal to a new step, and show this alien her place.

He pressed Lofn against the cold soft dirt, the Eldar's eyes were wide as she tried to protest to the sudden change of power but Klaus refused to remove his hand, ignoring the Eldar's protests Klaus pulled his hips back until only his cock's head remained within Lofn's snatch before he slammed all the way back down to the hilt.

The Eldar girl gasped as she felt every inch of the Kriegsman smash back into her, shattering a new barrier of pleasure, her eyes crossed momentarily as she grasped the back of his neck, dragging her nails down his back. Without much of a warning Klaus did the same thing over and over, again and again, slamming as hard as he could into the Eldar's soft and inviting pussy.

Lofn whimpered weakly through Klaus's hand, she felt closer to her new edge, already her legs trembled like leaves but Klaus refused to fuck her any quicker as he not only ignored her vocal pleas but also her mental ones, he held left her hand down but her free right hand could barely rub her clit without being smushed between both of their bodies, his weight also prevented her moving too much as he now had her pinned.

It was amazing what frustration and arousal felt like mixed together, no wonder Klaus looked so irritated with her, but Lofn could only take it for so long before she became impatient, so with a minor use of psychic influence she increased the pleasure she felt to cum faster, she wasn't as patient as Klaus when it came to getting off.

With warning, perhaps overdoing her psychic stimulation she came, wrapping her legs around his waist and squealing into his hand, it was loud.

"What the hell is going on?!" A drowsy Melm hissed. The dwarf was still in his sleeping bag, but he was giving him a death glare.

"Nothing," Klaus said quickly, "Lofn but stubbed her toe on a sword hilt." The Dwarf squinted slightly, before he sighed heavily, and turned around.

"Damn humans…" he grumbled, before he passed out once again.

The look on Klaus's face was one of immense displeasure, he glared down the young Eldar girl's eyes, "You did something to get off early, after torturing me for so long? I do believe I said if you made any more noise that I would gag you."

Lofn's eyes fluttered as Klaus reached over her and grabbed something, before she could react however her mouth was filled with fabric, from what she could see, it was her own pair of panties, blush came over the Eldar's face over the lewd indignation of her gag, but Klaus was not finished with her.

This was going to be Lofn's time to repent for getting off so quickly, and for starting this ordeal all together. He grabbed the cloth from her robe's belt and tied it around her gagged mouth, next her grabbed her trousers and pulled it up her arms, the bet went around her waist and closed tight went looped back through the belt loop, he tied off the ends of her pants together, completely concealing and restraining her arms.

Lofn stared up at Klaus helplessly as he sat her up on her knees, he bent her over with her face in the ground and with her firm, Eldar ass in the air. She shuttered feeling cold air being blown at her dripping snatch by Klaus, he shamelessly groped the Eldar's butt with both hands, he stopped suddenly as he grabbed his tunic and pants, he threw it over her very welcoming ass.

She understood why he was doing as her eyes spotted his leather belt. He had created cushioning on her butt so the sound of him spanking her would be muffled. Lofn's heart thumped in her chest, she saw Klaus's eyes narrow at her, "Throne damnit, there are a bunch of bugs in here."

Before Lofn could measure the meaning of what Klaus said it became abundantly clear to her on what he was doing when the belt struck over her right cheek, she hissed into the gag, barely making a muffled noise with the tightly tied thick fabric in her mouth.

Klaus struck over her left cheek, causing Lofn to shudder, she whimpered, shaking her covered rump at Klaus with pleading eyes, he however looked down at her apathetically delivering another smack, making her jerk her body further into the cold Earth. Another smack made Lofn yelp in the gag, she tried to lower her aching rear but Klaus pulled her back up, intent on punishing the Eldar further.

She shot him an irritated look, but once again her Eldar side made the pain dissipate and replace it with a very unconventional sense of pleasure, her eyes crossed, flickering as he delivered another strike to her sore and reddening rear. Klaus noticed this and delivered another strike, he saw Lofn move and squirm, she had even given a long drawn out muffled moan.

He tossed off his clothes and noticed that the little half breed had came from her supposed punishment, "You lack discipline."

Klaus frowned down at the pathetic alien's pleading eyes, he had already gone so far with his heresies… he might as well go big and seek forgiveness, maybe even die later. Take her with him maybe. He growled in anger. He might as well finish the job.

The Eldar girl cried slightly as she felt him slide his head up and down her slit, a pleasant moan vibrated through her gag as she was pulled up against Klaus's chest, his cock sliding back into her welcoming pussy with ease. Klaus grunted feeling Lofn tighten around his cock, his hands grasped and played with her breasts as she slid back and forth, stroking his shaft as her butt pressed up against his waist, he aggressively fondled her as his teeth grazed her slim neck.

He steadily increased his speed, his left hand grasping Lofn's thigh, pulling her back harder and faster, slapping their bare flesh together violently, thinking quickly he put her robe between both of their sweating bodies to somewhat minimize the noise they were making, in truth Klaus didn't care anymore, he just wanted to fuck Lofn harder.

Lofn felt the Kriegsman's new found lust, she briefly looked through his thoughts and felt herself getting closer to her edge the more she went through his imagination, he wanted her now, he desperately wanted to fuck her. He was getting close now, her toes curled as his left hand went down and flicked her clitoris rapidly, his right hand groped and twisted her right breast rapidly.

Both came, with muffled indignant groans and grunts, Klaus having to clench his teeth together as his thighs were pressed up hard against Lofn's, his cock firing load after load into her womb, he gasped feeling his heartbeat of his chest, so many sins in one night, yet he felt so good, like a Space Marine was lifted off his shoulders.

Neither of the spaceborn outcasts said a word as Klaus undid Lofn's bound hands and ungagged her mouth, not even a psychically exchange thought was given. They lied down together, Klaus's coat covering them both up as they settle on a warming patch of dirt. Lofn faced Klaus with her cheek pressed up against his shoulder, already comfortable enough to sleep, the Kriegsman planted his nose in her head full of hair and closed his eyes as well.

Hours passed, before something wet touched Klaus's ankle. His eyes opened, before the ground swallowed him.


	71. Chapter 70: The Old Gods Whispers

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So here is the second Uber Chapter, as promised.

I probably wont be uploading anything for a week or two, since I'm on vacation in Florida.

Anyways, hope you enjoy this.

Warchief Thrall looked over the reports with a grimace. It seemed that a massive storm had appeared out of nowhere near northrend. The few ships that had already made it to the icy continent would therefore be trapped, until the storm dissipated. He knew that it was not natural. It was not of any element, rather some other source of energy. It was similar to magic, but far more potent and powerful. Something he had never encountered before. Saurfang was leading the vanguard of the fleets. He hoped that his old friend made it there.

His attention was taken away, as his honorguard suddenly drew their weapons. The Kor'kron guards stood warily, looking around.

"I sense something, warchief! Something dark and malicious…" One of the four said, before he suddenly bumped right into something. The orc slowly turned around, his eyes wide in surprise, before a massive black hand engulfed his entire head. The remaining Kor'kron guard took uneasy steps back, as a hulking black figure stood there, holding the struggling orc in the air, several feet taller then the guard himself. Thrall was about to charge, Doomhammer already in hand, when he realized something. He had seen this being before. The creature looked at him, as he tossed the Kor'kron guard aside. The black plated orc slammed into a pillar, his heavy armor making a resounding clank.

"Loktar ogar, Warchief Thrall." It said in perfect orcish, getting the others to gasp in surprise. It slowly came forward, now noting the several spears and halberds being pointed at it.

"I would call your guards off, if I were you." It continued, as it lazily looked over them with eyes of vermillion red.

"Unless you want their guts all across your floor." He added on, getting a few growls of anger from said honor guards.

"What do YOU want?" Thrall demanded.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Legion, and I come to you with an offer." He stated. Thrall narrowed his eyes, his hand clutching his warhammer harder.

"What could you possibly offer me, demon?" He growled. Legion shook at that insult. Touched a nerve there.

"Simple. A way to pass the warp storm in northrend." He replied. Thrall raised an eyebrow.

"Warp storm?" He asked. Legion nodded.

"Yes, a warp storm. A miniature one to be sure. Passing through it would kill you… but I have a way to bypass it. I will offer my services for you, temporarily, if… you join us in fighting the forces of chaos…" He replied. Thrall raised an eyebrow.

"Chaos? You mean the Burning Legion?" He asked. Legion shook his head.

"No. They are different, though share a somewhat similar goal." He said. He paused then.

"If you are not convinced, then perhaps I shall allow a few… acquaintances, to speak for me." He said. He then pointed out in the air.

A fiery red portal opened up in the thin air. A figure stepped out. Thrall raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Jaina?" He asked in confusion. The mage awkwardly shuffled around, while the honor guard that were still watching were looking on in complete confusion. They all looked at each other with odd glances. Technically, the horde and alliance WERE at war with each other, but it seemed that for now, no one dared to anger the creature.

Jaina was the first to speak.

"He's right Thrall. This… chaos, is a threat that we haven't seen before. Thrall, we… I need you to help us. Please." She pleaded. Thrall sighed heavily.

"And what if I don't cooperate?" Thrall asked, glancing at Legion. The being stood there for a minute, before he pulled something out from behind his back.

"Then you would force me to do something I wouldn't want to do." He stated, as he revealed a small orb of green fluid, suspended in his hand by a barrier of fiery energy.

"This is a pocket of the Life-Eater virus. This virus is designed to wipe out entire planets of all life. I drop this virus, and the entire ecosystem of this whole planet is destroyed within days, not to mention every civilization on Azeroth, surface, underwater or underground. Each and every single one of you will be broken down into biological sludge. Tens of thousands of animals, men and women, and plants will be killed in minutes. The entire continent of Kalimdor will be a barren wasteland in less than a day. The massive amount of flammable gas that would be produced from this would be staggering. I drop a match, and your entire world goes into flames, rendering it into a lifeless crater." He explained slowly, looking over the pocket of the virus, before he chuckled.

"Now, you wouldn't want me to drop this… would you?" He asked menacingly. Thrall narrowed his eyes in anger.

"You wouldn't…" He growled. Jaina stepped forward, trying to keep Legion from dropping it. Legion held out his hand.

"Dont!" She shouted in panic, trying to push it down. Legion glared at her, before he looked at the Warchief. He stowed the virus away, as he looked back at the warchief.

"I will hear you pledge your forces." Legion stated. Thrall was furious. He was furious that this being could barge into his personal quarters, and demand an army from him. But he was in an uncomfortable situation. A tense silence followed, one that was nearly a minute in length.

"Very well. You said you could get past the warp storm… how?" He asked. Legion didn't even glance at him, as he turned around, opening a portal.

"Worry about preparing your army. Leave the warp storm to me..." He replied, as both he and a worried Jaina disappeared through the portal, one that quickly closed behind them.

/

The Broken Isles were a cluster of islands, that were found in the great seas of Azeroth. These islands were once part of Ancient Kalimdor, before the sundering broke the continent apart. Now these islands have become a ghost town, a place where a sinister evil lurks.

A screaming red portal opened in the shade of a palm tree, spitting out a black figure, along with several books. It then closed itself, stitching back the fabric of reality in seconds. The figure laid there for a few minutes, before it pulled himself up, and tore off its mask.

Sualk threw his gasmask to the ground, falling on his knees. His red corneas were filled with confusion, as he slowly looked around. This certainly wasn't Terra like he knew it. No massive skyscrapers, no towers of sacrifices and pits, and certainly no daemons prowling around, looking for unsuspecting victims.

" _Master, if I may ask… where are we?"_ His Black Blade asked. Sualk sighed, unsheathing the daemon blade, flipping it in his hand, catching it.

"I am not sure, Aetozar." He grumbled, whispering the daemons true name. He had fought and beaten Aetozar when he was only six. A testament to the superior training and breed of the Death Korps.

"However, I can conclude that we are not on Terra." Sualk said. Aetozar chuckled, his raspy voice echoing in his head.

" _We are not on Terra. We are not even in our galaxy."_ Aetozar grumbled. Sualk paused.

"Pardon?" He demanded.

" _It appears that your delusional father's spell worked. We have left our parent dimension, and have travelled elsewhere._ " He snapped. Sualk smirked.

"The bastard did it." He chuckled, as he sat down on the sandy shore, thinking to himself. He then glanced behind him. Several books lied there on the sandy shore. He went back into the shade, and scooped them up. Tomes of sorcery and demonology. That could prove useful, as he shoved them into his bag. He glanced down at his feet. Boots. He needed new boots, it seemed. He shrugged. He could always find more.

" _Would you like to hear my suggestion?"_ Aetozar asked. Sualk shrugged.

"Shoot."

" _We should spread the Dark Faith to the local population. Perhaps with enough sacrifices, if our masters exist in this dimension, mind you, we could escape._ " The daemon whispered. Sualk had long learned to never trust a daemons word, but he and Aetozar had been killing xenos, traitors and fellow men of chaos before he even knew how to read or write. Odd of a noblemen like himself, who had such royal blood as to be born on Terra itself. Sualk knew he could at least put a fair amount of trust within his daemonic companion.

"Very well then." Sualk said, as he stood up, sheathing the Black Blade, taking out his Kai Gun. He held the daemon weapon in his hands, softly rubbing its exterior. Such a weapon was rare, especially rare for a guardsmen to wield. It was hard enough for a space marine to carry such a weapon, let alone a human. But Sualk was no normal human. He was a member of the Death Korps.

They were the mortal champions of the God Lord himself. When they were born, they were handed off to a daemon, for them to be their new playthings for months on end. However, the tables would turn, when the daemons toy would turn on their master, and absorb their strength, cunning and power into their own flesh and mind. This was a process that was repeated, multiple times.

Sualk had the strength and intelligence of a daemon, and that was nothing to scoff at. All Death Korps guardsmen were like that, and that was not including the marks he had been gifted.

Sualk decided that it was time to pray, for a successful adventure into newfoundland. He sat down, and took out his twisted knife. He grasped it in his hand, and slit it. He didn't even wince, such a procedure being standard. He let the blood dribble onto the white sand, and began to paint the star of chaos with his own blood, chanting a small hymn to himself.

"Bless you Khorne, Lord of Skulls, Master of War, for granting me the strength to continue." He said to himself, as a rune that had been carved into his skin long ago flared from underneath his armored greatcoat, a bright shine of red. The Mark of Khorne.

"Bless you Nurgle, father of all life, master of pestilence and decay, for granting me the fortitude to persist." He continued. Another rune flashed underneath his greatcoat, this time with a shade of green. The Mark of Nurgle.

"Bless you Tzeentch, The Raven God, spinner of fate, for allowing me to be a part in your great game." He proceeded. Another rune, a flash of blue. The Mark of Tzeentch.

"Bless you Slaanesh, prince of pleasure, entertainer of those who are holy, for granting me love for the death of my enemies." He finished, as the final rune glowed pink. The Mark of Slaanesh. He smiled to himself. So his gods COULD hear him here. This was a good sign.

He stood up, wiping the blood off his hand onto his armor, as he slipped on his gasmask, fastening it. It was a brass and bronze construct, formed upon the screaming face of a daemon. Though it fit comfortably onto his head, it seemed nearly impossible to feel comfortable in, as it constantly shifted and morphed on the outside.

" _I sense enemies approaching._ " Aetozar grumbled. Sualk glanced up, as he grabbed the handle of the Black Blade.

"Where?" He demanded. The daemon was quiet for a few seconds.

" _Approaching from the North._ " The daemon rattled off. Sualk turned instantly, only for him to pause. That direction was in the ocean.

"You take me for some fool, Aetozar?" Sualk snapped. He then paused, looking back at the rolling waves. A dark shadow in the water itself was forming. Sualk took a few cautious steps back.

A serpentine creature slithered out of the water. It was nearly eight feet tall, muscular and broad. It wore a collection of steel armor on its scaly green skin, multiple frills extending out of its head. It had a snake like head and face, and certainly serpentine eyes. It let out a hiss, pointing a golden spear at him.

" _Its trying to say something…_ " Aetozar grumbled.

"Aren't you observant?" Sualk hissed, as he put himself in guard stance for now, now yet too sure of what to do. The thing hissed at him inching closer and closer.

" _I believe I have deciphered what this beast says. It says in its foul tongue that we are trespassing, and that we must die._ " Aetozar reported. Sualk nodded, as the thing let out a roar, and slithered toward with surprising speed, swinging down its massive trident. Sualk rolled out of the way, as its weapon embedded itself into the sand. Sualk charged forward, letting out a shout as he rolled into its guard, and thrusted forward with the Black Blade. The daemonic weapon lodged itself firmly into its armor, penetrating deeper into its scaly hide. Surprisingly enough, it's skin seemed to put up more of a fight then it's armor. The creature let out a hiss, as it smacked him aside with its muscular appendages. Sualk was sent flying, landing ten feet away. He snarled, pushing himself up, as he took out the Kai Gun from his bandolier, and opened fire.

A fiery red bolt of hatred and warp energy was released from the barrel, as the bolt collided with the reptiles skull. It didn't make a sound, as part of its head exploded in a red plume, covering the sand with purple blood. Its serpentine body then collapsed to the ground. He walked up to its corpse, and yanked out the Black Blade, shoving his daemon weapon back into his sheathe. A faint red glow came out of the serpent's body. Aetozar devouring its soul, it appeared. The daemon seemed satisfied. For now. Sualk then glanced at the thing itself, noticing its golden jewelry. He let out an 'oooh' as he yanked it off of its bloody stump, wiping the muscle and flesh that was caught in its chains. It was certainly heavy, but it looked nice. A symbol he could use to flaunt his noble blood, as he shoved it into his bag.

" _An interesting development this was. I could sense faint trickles of magic within this creatures bloodstream._ " Aetozar whispered. Sualk glanced at its corpse, before he shrugged, keeping the Kai Gun in his hands, his finger still on the trigger. Possibly a warp infused creature.

"Regardless, we should explore this island, see what we find." Sualk stated, as he began to travel alongside the beach.

" _Indeed. I shall begin to seek what information I can, while you 'Skulk' around."_ Aetozar hissed. Sualk grumbled to himself, while Aetozar laughed in his head. He hated when he made that joke.

Sualk scanned the coast, looking for any landmarks. One thing he did note, that it was rather warm. A nice 70 degrees, which made him sweat a little bit. Good for his skin, he supposed. His feet left a long track in the sand, as he continued to march in an orderly fashion. Soon, he came across a vine encrusted wall. Sualk snorted, as he began to rappel up the vines, climbing up to the wall, he then braced himself, and jumped, falling down to the wet ground. Water splashed all over him, soaking parts of his greatcoat with water. Sualk looked around. Another interesting development. It appeared that he was entering a temple of some sorts. To his side were walls on both ends, old sandstone that was covered with leaves, runes and plants. Sualk did notice something interesting, as he walked down this narrow open hall. A skeleton. Sualk came up to the body, kneeling down. He lifted up its chin with his finger, looking at the jawbone and skeletal structure.

" _Thick bone density, tusks, larger skeleton. Xenos, most likely._ " Aetozar rattled. Sualk stood up, leaving the corpse behind.

"Well thanks for that update. Other news, water is wet." Sualk grumbled. Aetozar hissed in fury.

" _Watch your tone, boy. Though I may be trapped within this blade, I will one day be free, and it shall be you who will be trapped in forever torment!"_ Aetozar bellowed. Sualk scoffed.

"If I could beat you when I was a toddler, what makes you think you could beat me when I'm an adult?" Sualk retorted. Aetozar was quiet for a minute.

"I thought so. Shut it." Sualk growled.

" _I sense something… heading this way."_ Aetozar grumbled. Sualk raised his Kai Gun, as he slowly walked forward, his finger on the trigger.

Suddenly, he turned the corner, his gun pointing right at the fool who thought he could ambush him. He then paused. Nothing. He glanced down, and saw a small crab, that was slowly crawling past his legs.

Sualk snatched the crustacean from the ground, examining it. He then lifted his mask, just enough to expose his mouth, and shoved the crab into his maw, biting down hard. Its shell cracked underneath his fangs and molars, as he began to slurp the insides of the creature, guzzling it down like a drink.

" _Thirsty?_ " Aetozar asked, chuckling slightly, as Sualk continued to fill himself up with its remains. When he was done with it, he threw away its now empty shell to the ground, and burped savagely, one that lasted for nearly ten seconds.

"By Nurgle that was rough." Sualk said tso himself, wiping his mouth of juice.

" _You're disgusting._ "

"You are a daemon, and you think that was disgusting?" Sualk smirked. Aetozar was quiet.

" _Well it was rather rude._ "

"You are a daemon that feasts upon the misery and suffering of my foes. When I slay a foe, your gouge yourself on their souls, devouring them, and absorbing them into your being, becoming more powerful. Yet here you are, lecturing me upon manners." Sualk replied.

" _You win this time, Skulk._ " Aetozar grumbled. Sualk paused, before he sighed. He heard footsteps. He glanced at his feet. Wasn't him this time. He then looked up, seeing several figures in the distance. Blood Letters.

He smiled to himself, as he lowered his Kai Gun.

"Greetings, fellow servants of Chaos." He said kindly. They growled at him, as they moved away, revealing a horror.

" _A Daemonic Herald. Exercise caution_." Aetozar grumbled.

"Thanks for telling me the obvious…" Sualk replied.

/

The Dark City of Commorragh was a place dredged up from hell. To survive, one had to be exceptionally smart, cruel, and cunning. Commorragh was not a place for the light hearted, as those that were weak in their stead often found themselves within the slave pits, or in a haemonculus chamber.

While Commorragh was the city of the Dark Eldar, the cruel and twisted cousins of the Craftworld Eldar, anyone could technically visit, or live there. However, the ones who did were insane or lucky individuals, who had to play every card in the book to survive.

"Easy… easy…" Unkle grumbled to himself, as he slowly piloted the orkmobeel into a docking space. The ork sighed, as the landing gear kicked in, slowly pushing the land raider down, as the metal door closed behind him. Several Kabalite Warriors immediately rushed forward, splinter weapons at the ready. Unkle sighed, pressing a button on the console.

A vast array of weaponry shot out of the orkmobeel, all pointing right at the Dark Eldar warriors. They paused for a moment, while Unkle slowly revved up the Vulcan Cannon. He grabbed a small stereo from the inside of the cockpit, and cleared his throat.

"Step away from da kar, or I open foire." He snapped in their dialect. It hurt talking in Eldarnese, as he called it. It really did a work on your throat, hence why he brought a few bottles of water. The second he said that, they immediately put their weapons down. Unkle smirked. Looks like she was expecting him.

He opened the cockpit, and hopped out of the orkmobeel. He glanced behind him, as he took out a pair of keys, and pushed a button. The orkmobeel locked itself, as the self defence systems came online. Several stolen Tau gun drones flew out of the orkmobeel, and began to patrol the orkmobeel. He adjusted his coat and fixed his collar, as one of the Kabalite warriors approached him, keeping his weapon in his hands.

"Hesperax was not expecting any… guests." The warrior said, practically spitting the word guest.

"Dis aint me first toime visiting her, noobie. I wanna have a little chat, maybe buy some stuff." Unkle replied. The dark eldar snorted.

"I think not. Take your barbaric device and leave, before I throw you to a haemonculus." He hissed. Unkle pulled out his keys, and pressed a button.

The vulcan cannon on the land raider pointed at the Dark Eldar Warrior, and opened fire. A stream of bullets was launched out of the barrel, colliding with the form of the warrior. Unkle only smirked, as for ten seconds, the vulcan cannon emptied out nearly two thousand rounds into the warrior, the recoil being so powerful it slowly slid the landraider back several meters. Finally, it stopped, it's barrels now smoking red.

Where the Warrior once stood, there was now nothing but a cloud of red mist. Unkle glanced at the other two warriors, and gave them a nudge.

"Now skram, uvvawoise yoo'll be joinin yer pal." He threatened. They wisely took his advice, and walked away. Unkle shoved his keys back into his pocket, as he took out his first bottle of water, and began to chug half of it down in less than a second. He swished it around, before he swallowed, letting out a sigh.

"Dat wuz noice." He said, stepping over what was left of the now dead warrior. He walked over to a side of the wall inside the massive tower, heading to a small book case. He started pulling them out at abandon. After the fifth book he got lucky, and the wall partially opened, revealing a rather nice and lavish hallway. Unkle stepped in, letting the wall close behind him.

"Secret bookcases… wot is dis, Sherlock?" He asked to himself, chuckling. She may be the best gladiator and wych in Commorragh, but she wasn't that creative. When it came to anything but killing. She was rather creative at that.

Unkle was reminded of her litheness, as suddenly he was yanked backward, a knife held to his throat, the back of his coat suddenly being pricked and stabbed by hundreds of cuts.

"Who are you, and what are you doing within my domain?" She hissed from behind him.

"I'm Asdrubael Vect, and dis is me favorite arena on Commorragh." He replied sarcastically. He was flipped around, and then hugged.

"Unkle! What are you doing here?!" Lelith Hesperax squealed, holding him with a bearhug. Unkle chuckled, before he felt bi

"Just here fer business." He said, his voice quickly disappearing, as her hold on him strengthened nearly ten fold. She then let go, making Unkle collapse to the floor, huffing and puffing. Yep. That felt like a broken rib to him. He slowly pulled himself up, cracking his back. Lelith sighed slightly.

"Just for business?" She asked. Unkle nodded, cracking his jaw.

"Yep. Yoo know dat I aint da best viewa fer yer show." He chuckled. She crossed her arms over her chest. Like all Dark Eldar, she had a cruel look to her, compared to other Eldar. Her fiery red hair was filled with needles and barbed hooks, some that were stained with his own blood. She seemed dressed as normal, with very, very light and revealing armor that covered the bare necessities. However, Unkle had seen her fight. Hell, he had been in a fight with her.

"Yes, you are not the best viewer for a show. Let alone a participant. They are still fixing the damage you've done. Blowing up half the arena leaves quite the mark you know." She said, a tad bit of anger in her voice at the end of her sentence. Unkle chuckled lightly.

"It wuz nuffin personal." He chuckled, leaning against the wall. It was in reality a door, which revealed a massive chamber, filled with sex toys and the like. Lelith barged past him, slamming the door shut. Unkle raised an eyebrow. Dark Eldar and their BDSM...

"I ain't gonna ask." He then stated. Lelith nodded.

"You won't." She hissed, before she paused, and smiled.

"So business. What do you want?" She asked. Unkle took out a cigar from his coat, and lit it.

"I'm lookin fer some slaves. Any interestin characters?" He asked, as he shoved the cigar in his mouth, inhaling it slightly. Lelith smirked.

"How about a Death Korps Grenadier?" She asked. Unkle paused. A rare catch.

"Where'd ya foind him?"

"Her. We found her, along with a town of ten thousand on a small agri world. Easy pickings, though she killed ten of my warriors." She replied. Unkle smirked.

"Wot she look loike?" He asked. Lelith paused, thinking for a few moments.

"Black and grey armor. Yellow lenses. She is still in the markets, if you would like to get a closer look."

"Ill buy her." Unkle replied. She nodded, before she smirked.

"What experiment are you planning for this time?" She asked. He grunted. Typical.

"Nah, not an experiment. Just fer a littul gift from me ta sumone else." He smiled.

"You should visit more. You always do have some fine catches for challengers." She said. Unkle shrugged.

"Maybe later. Now, let's go see dis Deff Korp git." Unkle proclaimed.

/

Sualk stepped out of a blood red portal, followed by the Tzneetchian daemon, The Librarian, as it called itself. He sheathed his blade, shaking it of warp residue from slaying several Bloodletters. A symbol of power, as the daemon described it. Sualk did not like to play kiss up to any daemon. They were worth as much as slaves in his eyes, and were used as such where he came from. Often a powerful family had multiple daemons within their household. Furies to help cook and clean, horrors

He passed several chaos space marines, who were giving him an odd look. Sualk noticed that these chaos space marines seemed far less regal than the ones at home. They looked like a crude imitation of the real thing. Gone were the seals of nobility and the like, instead replaced with foul markings and skulls. They did not look pure. Inbred and unregal more like.

He merely gave them a disappointed look underneath his mask, before he looked forward. He had served with both the Death Guard and the Iron Hands. If they saw something like this, they would be disgusted.

"You are a servant of chaos, and a powerful one." The Horror said, as it walked forward, clinking its staff on the ground.

"Aye. Born on the daemon world of Terra. Raised in the Death Korps." He replied. The Horror gave him a curious look.

"Oh?" He asked. Sualk nodded.

"Yes. I serve the chaos gods as any other man would." He simply stated. The horror nodded.

"As it should be. The mortals on this planet do not yet accept the dark faith." It replied. Sualk raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so?" He asked. He stopped, kicking away a mutated rat that was trying to nibble on his shoe. They both looked at a chaos space marine, who was dragging along a chain of slaves. Prisoners of war, or captives. The chaos space marine approached the horror, coated in black power armor. A mark four. That was odd. A vast majority of the chaos space marines he knew had mark eight Errant armor.

"Lord." The chaos space marine said, bowing slightly to the tzeentchian horror, before he glanced at Sualk for a moment.

"Report." the horror demanded. The chaos space marine nodded.

"It appears that inhabitants have been landing on the shores of the continent in force. They are congregating in massive numbers on the east coast of the Borean Tundra." He said, yanking the chains slightly. Sualk looked at the congregated species with an odd look. Some of them already looked like daemons, though Sualk noticed at least one human, chanting in some frenzy. The chaos space marine noticed his glare, and growled.

"A priest. He won't shut up, no matter how much I beat him." He growled. Sualk nodded.

"Allow me." He said smugly, as he came forward, taking off his gloves. He walked up right to the priest, who was still mumbling to himself.

"The light is my strength, the light is my strength, the light is my strength…" he mumbled. An old man it seemed. Sualk smiled to himself, as his hand covered his mouth.

At first he was defiant, but then his eyes widened in horror, as he began to violently thrash around in the chains that held him down. Sualk moved his hand back, revealing that the flesh of the man's skin had knitted itself over his mouth and teeth, covering it completely. Disgusting pustules of flesh and pus now appeared everywhere on the man's face and head. Sualk wasn't done yet.

He put his hand back on the man's head. The man continued to scream, though it was muffled by his own mutated flesh. The horror looked on in interest. The chaos space marine looked on in fascination, while the slaves watched on in horror. The horrible sound of bones breaking and cracking followed, as Sualk continued to channel the malevolent energy within him into this man. He quietly hummed to himself, though he stopped when a part of the man's skin exploded, covering part of his face with blood. When he was done, he retracted his hand, and slipped his glove back on, and licked his face clean of blood.

The priest had turned into a screeching chaos mutant, a horribly deformed creature that was screaming and roaring in anger, as it suddenly tried to kill the slave that was next to it. Its spine had grown out of its back, spikes and nets of bone that ripped itself out of its back and chest. Its head was now simply a gaping open maw, its cranium now drooping from the back of its skull, while its arms were now engorged with muscles and claws. It let out a roar, wildly shaking itself, trying to rip the chains off and feast.

"Taken care of." He simply said, smirking slightly. A gift from tzeentch, was his mutative touch and skin. At his will it could transform and mutate anything in contact. Tzeentch was his favorite, aligned patron.

"I am impressed…" The horror said, as it waved its hand. The chaos space marine then went back to dragging the chain of slaves. Sualk smiled to himself, though he quickly corrected himself. Daemons are less than slaves. He had to remember that.

"Do you wish for battle… follower?" The horror asked. Sualk smirked. It had been awhile since he had enjoyed himself in proper bloodshed.

"You may call me 849271-337256 'Sualk'. I am a follower, as are you. As I see it, I am at your command." He grumbled. It was a stain on his honor to lower himself to work for daemons, to be sure, but in the end, they still served the same gods.

"I have a mission for you. Prove your worth, and you may prove to be a powerful second." The horror smirked.

"I am no second to you, daemon. We serve the same gods. Thats. It." Sualk hissed. The horror grumbled to himself.

"Very well then. You shall take a group of volunteers, and take them to tundra. Slay the intruders." He growled. Sualk nodded.

"Volunteers? You give me cultists and mutant filth?" He demanded. The horror shook his head.

"No. Chaos space marines." The horror said. Sualk nodded. As it should be.

"Very well then." He grumbled.

" _I do not trust this creature… Stay on your guard, I sense a betrayal in our time…_ " Aetozar grumbled. Sualk shrugged, as he walked away, patting the handle of the black blade.

"It wouldn't be doing its job right if it wasn't planning on so." He replied firmly.

" _Then we shall Skulk away._ " Aetozar grumbled. Sualk paused, growling then.

"I hate you…"

/

Klaus woke up to have a slimy feeling on his leg. He was somewhere dark, and the air was thick with the smell of death and water. He looked down in shock, seeing a disgusting tentacle dragging him rapidly down a deep chasm. Klaus reacted by reaching into his sheathe, grabbing his powersword, and began to try and slice the disgusting thing. However, it was too fast for him to strike, as the thing kept moving around, too fast for him to hit. He tried to get his plasma pistol, but another tentacle slipped out through the darkness, grabbing one of his arms with such a powerful grip that he could not possibly hope to break its grasp upon his limb.

"Shit!" He shouted, as he tried to helplessly batter the tentacle with his other hand, as his sword arm was nearly being strangled.

" **Your struggles are pathetic and meaningless, almost as pathetic as your existence…** " A horrid voice said, as suddenly, Klaus was blinded by a purple flash. As his vision came back, he realized with a jolt that this certainly was not the Argent Tournament. Instead, it was a massive cave, with a tentacled… thing, in the center of a massive pool of greenish blue liquid. Klaus looked at the thing with disgust and contempt. Somehow he had been captured, and brought to this… creature.

"What disgusting hell did you crawl out of?" Klaus shouted, as the massive creature turned its bulbous body towards him. It looked almost like an octopus, though it was much, much larger. Its green and blue skin seemed to constantly change colors, looking at it simply hurt his eyes. In his head, he could hear whispers. Barely audible, but they told him many things.

" _Submit…"_

" _Your friends will betray you…"_

" _You shall not survive your fruitless endeavor…"_

Klaus screamed in both mental and physical agony, as he tried to force the whispers out of his mind. The creature laughed, its many teeth filled maws moving in unison as it spoke.

" **Do not worry mortal. If I wanted to drive you insane, I could have done it long… long… ago…** " It said, its voice booming across the cavern. Klaus couldn't help but notice the massive chains that hung from around the cavern, nearly as large as Warhound Titans. The creature noticed his gaze, and sighed. It slowly began to move Klaus around, showing him the massive cavern.

" **Ah… yes… long ago the foolish creatures known as titans usurped my rule, and chained me beneath the crust of this world…** " It grumbled. It then glanced back at him, as it slowly moved Klaus back to the front of the beast. " **No longer…** "

"What the hell are you?" Klaus demanded, as the thing began to move him closer. Klaus did not wish to stare at it, but his eyes no longer obeyed him, as it stared at the being with hatred, disgust, and curiosity. Hey, if he was going to be killed, he would appreciate what the hell it was.

" **I go by many names… The Lucid Dream, The Beast with a Thousand Maws, The Fiend of a Thousand Faces, The God of Death, That Which Must Not Be Named…** " It began, saying each name like it was a gift. Its tentacles brought Klaus even closer, until he was nearly five feet away from the creature.

" **I am Yogg-Saron. Hopes End.** " It stated, strings of saliva hitting Klaus in the gasmask. Yogg-Saron then glanced at Klaus, and chuckled.

" **You are Klaus. A human that is not from this realm.** " It added on. Klaus was stunned.

"How do you know?" He demanded. Yogg-Saron chuckled lightly. It then began laughing, it's insane laughter reverberating and echoing throughout the cavern. Klaus bit his lips bloody in pain, the laughter making his ears bleed. It stopped, and sighed, it's booming and slimy voice filling his ears like a noise marines cacophony.

" **You truly are a fool."** It sighed. It paused for a moment, before it continued.

" **I am an Old God. For thousands of years, I have been chained in this prison. No longer.** " It hissed. Klaus was confused, noting that the tentacle that wrapped around his sword arm was beginning to loosen. He tried to break it free, but it really didn't work. The old god let out a snort, watching him as Klaus struggled to get out of its indomitable grasp.

" **Struggle all you like. It shall avail you none.** " It growled. Klaus sighed, realizing that for now, it was useless. Klaus decided to buy his time. If he couldn't kill this… this thing, then he would more then happy to leave a scar.

"Then what's the point of dragging me here?" Klaus demanded. Yogg-Saron chuckled.

" **To simply let you know the lie that is your destiny...** " It began. Klaus was puzzled. Yogg-Saron glanced at Klaus's right arm, and wrapped a slimy tentacle around his arm. Klaus was repulsed, and tried to bat it away, but to no avail.

" **I hope you don't grow too attached to this… I foresee it not being there in a month's time.** " It grumbled.

"Speak creature! Why did you bring me here!" Klaus snapped at it. Yogg-Saron chuckled quietly.

" **I must admit, it is refreshing to see a catch that is not as weak willed as sheep…"** It countered. Yogg-Saron paused again.

" **However, your hubris does not match your body. Your lack of fear comes from ignorance, not your poor sense of bravado. I know what you truly are, and everything that you could stand for.** " It added. Klaus snarled.

"Like what?" He snapped. Yogg-Saron dropped Klaus. He began flailing around in the air, descending rapidly, until another tentacle caught him by his legs. It slowly lifted him up, away from the sludge at the bottom of the pit, until he was looking directly right into the old gods massive maw.

" **I know that your every action betrays the teachings of the god you follow. I know that your god is not even one, but a man. A crippled, nearly dead man that could die if the breeze blew the wrong way."** It began. Klaus was seething at this point, and began to try and shoot the tentacles with his plasma pistol, but it would not fire.

" **I could kill you pathetically easy. I should, in fact.** " Yogg-Saron growled. " **But I sense a higher calling within you… the strings of your fate will not be cut just yet…** "

"If you think I would worship something like you, then you're only fooling yourself, abomination." Klaus snapped. It chuckled.

" **I have no need of a minion. I have others who could carry out my bidding, far better then you could possibly hope to achieve.** " It countered. Klaus paused. He didn't know if he was to be relieved, or insulted.

" **However, your fate is two par. You are one half. Yet, there is another. A polar opposite to everything you stand for… how you two meet, will entertain me greatly.** " Yogg-Saron stated. Klaus was confused. Yogg-Saron began to chuckle. Klaus suddenly reached into his belt, pulling out his plasma pistol, and pulled the trigger. A small globule of plasma was released from the barrel, striking the Old God in one of its many teeth. The Old God let out a scream of pain, one that hurt Klaus's ears. He let out a shout of pain, as the Old God brought him closer. Klaus then smirked, noting the bubbling mess of calcium and bone that was dribbling down into the pool below them.

" **We shall meet again… and next time, you won't be so fortunate…** " The Old God growled, before it began to laugh insanely. Behind Klaus, a purple and black portal opened up from behind him. Klaus cursed aloud, glancing at the swirling vortex behind him.

" **Begone from here!** " Yogg-Saron cackled, as he threw Klaus into the portal, who disappeared without a trace. The old god chuckled to itself, and grinned savagely.

" **May the best man win…** "

/

Is this duel bait I see?


	72. Chapter 71: The Herald of Chaos

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

Here was a part of yesterdays chapter I forgot to upload.

So instead, I'll just make it a new chapter.

Quick authors note at the bottom.

Enjoy.

The night was slow and calm. On the coast of Northrend, a large camp of Alliance Troops settled, waiting for reinforcements. Far in the distance off the coast, a dark storm gathered, blocking all access, both from coming in and going out. They did not know what had conjured up this storm. Sualk did. The horror, along with the greater daemon of tzeentch, had casted this spell. It was no storm, not a storm at all, but a warp storm. A comparatively weak one, since it did not tear the entire planet asunder, but it was still enough to keep the forces outside at bay. The guardsmen smirked, as he stopped marching. The camp was roughly a mile away, but he could see everything crystal clear. Roughly several hundred soldiers were encamped here, it appeared. Somewhat heavy security. Nothing he couldn't handle though.

Sualk glanced at the four chaos space marines that were handed into his command. Two of them were simple tacticals, armed with bolters, while their was one chosen, and one plague marine. Though the scent should have been a dead giveaway of their position, Sualk was smart enough to realise that. Though he wasn't the most potent sorcerer, he was at least adept.

He wove his hand, mumbling daemonic incantations, using the black blade as a medium of his power, as the spell of concealment faded away. He glanced at his followers, and grinned.

"Gentlemen, the camp is just ahead. I'll go ahead, and prepare an ambush. On my mark, you'll charge. They won't know what hit them." He stated. The Chosen was the first to speak up.

"You dare give ME commands, you pathetic whelp?!" He snapped. Sualk grasped the black blade a bit tighter, as he glared at the chosen, right into his blood red eyes. He had no fear of this usurper… but if he got back in line, he wouldn't have to waste his energy.

"Are you questioning my authority?" Sualk demanded. The Chosen growled, shoving Sualk back, nearly knocking him over.

"Stay back mortal, before I rip your heart out of your chest." He growled. Sualk stood up, and shrugged.

"You had your chance." He stated. Then with lightning quick speed, he stabbed his sword right through the chosens chest, straight through its blessed power armor, right into its secondary heart. The Chosen let out a grunt of surprise, dropping its volkite weapon to the ground. With a blank face, Sualk then yanked the sword up to the side, cutting right up to the primary heart. He stopped, as he yanked the sword out, and then shoved it back in, as he began to cut a large hole right through its chest. Sualk slid his blade back into its sheathe, as he shoved his hand into its chest, and wrapped around the heart's aorta. He then ripped it out of the chest cavity, holding it proudly in front of the Chosen. The beating organ pooled large amounts of dark ichor on his gloved hand, seeping from his fingers onto the ground. Sualk then grabbed the Chosen by the neck, and yanked. At first, nothing happened. Then, with the second yank, a sick and terrible cracking and ripping noise was heard. Then with another pull, the chaos space marines head was ripped off its torso. He continued to drag it forward, a white and bony spine following the base of the head. He then yanked it forward lazily, grasping the spinal columns of the now dead chaos space marine. He looked at the bleeding organ in his hand, before he then shoved it right into the bleeding stump of what was once a head, shoving it back into its chest cavity. He then kicked it, letting the body fall to the ground. Sualk grabbed the volkite rifle from its rigor mortis grasp, and firmly slung it onto his back, using some spare rope he had. He sighed, and clapped his hands together a couple of times, shaking them of blood and bone chips. He then glanced at the rest of his troops, and smirked.

"Any further objections?" He asked, glancing at the rest of the chaos space marines. The two tacticals glanced at each other, while the Plague Marine shook his head.

"No… you… may… lead…" The Plague Marine grumbled. One of the chaos space marines then glanced at him.

"How will we know what the signal is?" He asked. Sualk waved his hand, creating a link of dark purple warp energy from his palm to the tip of the blade. He glanced at the chaos space marine, and smiled, his fanged teeth

"Oh you will know. Until then, get closer." Sualk commanded. Finally at the crescendo of his spell, he disappeared in a cloud of blue and purple smoke.

/

Klaus wasn't just angry. No. Angry wasn't even a word that could describe the simple fury, the rage. He was seething. He was seething at one person. One person, in particular.

"Where is she?!" He snapped aloud, his face flushed with red. Melm sighed, adjusting his collar.

"I uh… I dont kn-"

"I SAID WHERE IS SHE!" He snapped, grabbing him by the collar of his polka dot pajamas.

"Alright alright!" Melm cried aloud, stopping Klaus's relentless shaking assault. "She's over in the arena!" He said. Klaus roughly put him down on the ground, storming off.

Klaus was absolutely furious at Lofn. He had… well… coitus with her, and he was NOT happy. She manipulated him, in a time when he was most vulnerable. Sure, Klaus was pretty sure that she was as drunk as him, if not worse. However, that was no excuse. She robbed him of something he held dear, and now? Now, she was going to pay. With her life.

He was clenching his mono edged knife so hard that his skin underneath began to pale. That disgusting, xenos whore! How dare she, how dare she do this to him? This was just disgusting, intangible, unthinkable! She already stabbed him in the back before, but this! This was just a disgusting display. When he would find her, he would wrap his hands around her neck and break it. She didn't deserve such a quick death, but Klaus would be lenient. He shoved the knife back into his belt, cracking his knuckles.

"Hey um… buddy…" Grenadier Klaus said slowly, sitting on Klaus's shoulder, as he stormed forward. "Maybe you should um… settle down." He said. Klaus paused.

"What? If anything, you should be supporting me in this!" He snapped in anger.

"I mean… I do…" Grenadier Klaus mumbled. Priest Klaus sighed.

"Listen. I think we need to sit down and think about this. You are probably acting a little rash here." He suggested. Klaus growled at him.

"Ah yes. Sit down and ponder why I have devolved into such a Vostroyan, yellow bellied, coward!" He snapped at his subconscious. Grenadier Klaus snickered at that insult, while Priest Klaus merely held his temple in frustration.

"Alright Klaus. Go ahead, but I don't think murder will look very pleasing to these people." Priest Klaus suggested. Klaus paused, slowing down. He looked at the crusaders who were here. He absorbed each of their faces, and stopped walking.

"Perhaps… I am acting a little bit foolish." He grumbled. Priest Klaus let out a breath of relief, glancing at Grenadier Klaus, who merely snorted, turning his nose away.

"But she is not getting away with this." Klaus growled, as he started to speed walk again, making a beeline for the arena. Now it was Grenadier's Klaus turn to make a snide remark towards his counterpart, doing a quick little dance, holding both of his middle fingers up in the air. Priest Klaus growled in frustration, as he went back to suggesting ideas to Klaus.

"Ok fine, but what are you proposing? A beating? Breaking her legs? Aren't those things a little extreme?" He stated.

"Alright, I won't break her legs." He grumbled. He then slowed down, thinking about this some more. There should be an easier way to do this. He then nodded his head.

"Yes. Instead of beating her physically, I'll do it mentally. Make sure she doesn't even think about pulling a stunt like that again without her losing a couple of fingers." He proposed. Priest Klaus sighed. At least he got him somewhat out of his furious rampage. Still, this wasn't exactly enough for him to be satisfied.

Klaus then bumped into someone. His mind began to formulate an apology. On seeing who it was, he crumpled it up and threw it at a window.

"Oh shit." Priest Klaus mumbled.

There stood Lofn, who was blushing red. In her hands was a note, and a bunch of flowers. She still wore her black and white robes, her glittering gemstones reflecting the morning rays of sunlight onto Klaus's face.

"Oh-"

"Cut the groxshit." He snapped immidietly, cutting her off before she could say anything.

"Do you have any idea, just any, of how FURIOUS I am?" He asked rhetorically, working himself up to prepare the most hateful and disgusting speech he could hope to deliver. She knew what she was in for. Klaus was about to unload on her, when she stuck out what she had in her hands. He looked down, his eyes dilating slightly at the sight of the bushel of flowers.

"Don't get distracted!" Grenadier Klaus shouted at him. Seeing that Klaus was momentarily distracted, Lofn took the advantage.

"Listen Klaus I'm… I'm really sorry for what happened last night." She mumbled, rubbing the back of her head.

"I'm really sorry that we had… sex… and I don't know if I can ever make it up to you. Since your still mad about the… nano scarab thing." She added on. She glanced down at the flowers, and smiled.

"I knew you were going to be mad at me so I got you flowers." She said. Klaus looked down at the flowers in her hands, and slowly took them, his seething fury temporarily forgotten.

"They are… beautiful." He said slowly, his calloused fingers brushing their gentle and delicate surface. Grenadier Klaus smashed his own head onto Klaus's armored shoulder pad, while Priest Klaus silently cheered.

"However…" Klaus said slowly, getting both of the personalities to freeze. He glanced at them, before looking right at her, his cold eyes capable of piercing diamond with the glare he was giving her.

"I am not your plaything. If you ever try something like that, know that I will tear you apart, piece by bloody piece, and I will make it slow." He said, before he paused. He let out a muffled scream, as he was biting his lips bloody just to control his anger. He let out a deep sigh, exhaling heavily. He gave her such a powerful death stare that it could make even the most stoic of people soil themselves.

"Note that I won't let such an insult and grievance slip ever again. Do something like that, and I'll make sure that you won't be able to do something like that for the rest of your life." He hissed, before he moodily stormed off, taking both the flowers and the note with him.

"Well that went pleasantly well." Priest Klaus said, letting out a deep sigh.

"Wait until he finds out that Melm might tell Bluddflagg about it." Grenadier Klaus suggested. Klaus froze, before he bolted forward. He HAD to stop that dwarf.

/

Sualk creeped forward, melding in the shadows. He clutched the black blade in his grasp, his crimson eyes scanning the environment.

" _Nothing?_ " Aetozar asked. Sualk growled.

"Plenty. How we are going to distract them, is the real concern." He whispered. He looked around, still thinking to himself.

" _Barrels of Alcohol are near the center fire pit. Sabotage the barrels, and the center of this camp will be engulfed in a fiery plume."_ The daemon suggested. Sualk glanced at the center of the camp, and smirked.

"Good idea." He commented, as he slowly rose up, and worked his away across the edges of the camp.

Such a rudimentary camp reminded him of years on the field. The Death Korps, being the most elite of the Chaotic Guard, had the most privileges. They often worked with the Sisters of Ecstasy against their most hated enemies, the Lupercalians. Of course, said Sisters of Ecstasy had… indulgences. Most who were… 'Chosen' did not return, and if they did, they were often so swamped in joy that they died from blood loss and exhaustion with a smile etched on their lips.

Sualk survived such an experience, with minimal scars. He thought it was something to be proud of.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, now hearing footsteps. He glanced up, seeing a small patrol walk around. Three swordsmen, and one woman holding a lantern. Sualk prepared the black blade, as he let the three swordsmen pass. They were relatively far away from the lantern woman, and it was now that he struck.

He lunged out of the bushes, impaling the woman right in her chest. She went out to scream, but his hand gagged her mouth, as he immediately pulled her back into the bushes.

With his inhuman strength, he crushed her neck like it was made of paper, while the daemon within happily gorged on the screaming woman's soul. Sualk sighed to himself, dumping the body on the dirt. He grabbed the lantern from the dirt path, and dragged it towards him, extinguishing the light for now.

" _It's been awhile since we have done this._ " Aetozar pointed out, the daemon within his blade eagerly awaiting an opportunity like this, the blade of the sword vibrating as he spoke.

"Well, let's make it quick then." Sualk hissed, as he concentrated on the spiritual bond between him and his minion.

Sualk's mortal form began to shift and change in front of his own eyes. His skin began to meld and mold into a different tint and density. His eyes mutated to match the ones of the now deceased body on the ground, while his armor faded away, instead replaced by a simple blue and yellow robe.

The now transformed Sualk brushed his/her hair away, as he/she picked up the lantern. Sualk glanced down at his form, and giggled.

" _Now is not the time for these kinds of jokes._ " Aetozar growled threateningly. " _I can only hold this illusion for so long._ "

"Alright, alright." He grumbled, as he picked up the lantern. His index finger was enveloped by a yellow flame, and he held it to the wick and molten wax inside. The candle within lit itself. Sualk closed the small door shut, shaking the warp fire off of his hand, as he emerged from the bushes, and walked down the dirt path. There was an unfortunate problem. Sualk had no idea how to speak any of these dialects. He just hoped that he could get to the barrels before the illusion faded, or someone just figured it out.

Suddenly, he heard a noise. He glanced over his shoulders to see two humans calling to him.

"What are they saying?" Sualk hissed quietly. Aetozar was quiet for a moment.

" _One of them said you have a nice ass._ " The daemon replied. Sualk muttered angrily.

"Make sure I kill him last." He growled.

" _I'll leave a note. Keep moving._ " Aetozar snapped. Sualk obeyed, as he continued to walk forward, entering the center of the camp.

Dozens of soldiers were surrounding the fire. They were telling stories, cooking food over the fire, or simply polishing their weapons and armor. Hopefully, they wouldn't pay him any attention. Sualk could see the barrels of alcohol. They were placed in a large stack, and he could see several abhumans congregate around said barrels of alcohol, drinking themselves to death.

" _Forty seven hostiles in the immediate vicinity. Around seventy eight more in the surrounding perimeter."_ The daemon reported. Sualk nodded. Fair numbers, but he doubted they could do much to him.

He approached the barrels of alcohol, lantern still in hand. One of the abhumans, one with a beard that nearly reached its waist, let out a cry of alarm, trying to stop him. As his hand touched Sualk's form, the illusion faded for a brief second. Seeing what Sualk really was, the dwarf reached for its axe. It was too late.

Sualk revealed himself, as he swung his black blade, cutting the ropes that held the barrels of alcohol together. The barrels rolled away, running over one of the smaller abhumans, while scattering the rest. He plunged his sword down into the wooden frame of the barrel, and cut it open, letting the brown substance seep all over the ground. He then dropped the lantern, while he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blight grenade.

The small green skull gave him a glare, as Sualk primed the grenade and tossed it into the massive confusion and panic. It exploded, sending a cloud of Nurgles toxic fumes and pestilence upon those in the immediate radius. The contagion swarmed those closest to the grenade. They fell to the ground, shaking and shivering in untold agony as their skin was ripped apart, boils festering upon their body as packets of supernatural maggots began to devour their skin from the inside out. All the while keeping them alive to appreciate the gifts of nurgle.

Most of these cowards ran, but Sualk gave credit to the ones who fought. He would credit them with a quick death.

One alliance soldier charged him, bringing a greatsword to bear. The soldier let out a battle cry, swinging down his greatsword. Sualk caught the blade, as it slid through his flesh, right down to his elbow. The soldier let out a victory cheer, before it quickly turned into one of horror.

Two of his gifts worked together. The strength of Khorne allowed him to rip the blade free from his body, and break the steel blade into two pieces. The fortitude of Nurgle released a cloud of flies from the wound, that quickly began to stitch his skin, muscle and ligaments back together. They pulled what remained of the skin and muscles and began to vomit on them, the contagious bile forcing his cells to regenerate at a massive level. Sualk absentmindedly shoved the greatswords blade so far up the soldier's neck that the tip of the blade reappeared at the top of his skull. He gently pushed the soldier's dead body to the ground, as the last of Nurgles creatures finished healing his wound. He rewarded them by sending them on a mage, who was casting a spell. The wizard screamed, as the supernatural insects swarmed him, and began to digest his face and skull with their corrosive acids.

He glanced to his side, before he grinned devilishly.

" _That's the one_." Aetozar said, confirming his suspicions. His hand flared with blue and purple warp energy, as he quickly began to pursue his prey. The soldier who said that he had a nice ass let out a scream of terror, as the guardsmen caught up to him. He snatched him by his neck, holding him up with pathetic ease.

"Revenge is sweet, isn't it?" He said, chuckling heavily. He brought his hand to the man's face, getting him to scream in pain and agony. The flesh on his face began to malform and twist, the tzeentchian energy in his palms turning him into a foul abomination. But not yet. He wanted to learn a bit more. He retracted his hand, letting it flare once with energy, before it stopped. He grabbed a rope, and tied it around the man's neck, as he then hung him up on a wooden pole. He then grabbed his leg, and broke it. He ignored his pitiful screams, as he repeated the process to his other leg, rendering him immobile.

"I'll be back for you." He stated, as he drew the black blade from its sheathe once more. He then paused, glancing at his own feet. They were still covered with his dirty socks.

"Say you don't mind if I take this, right?" He asked, gesturing to the man's boots. There was no response.

" _I'm pretty sure he's dead._ " Aetozar grumbled. Sualk shrugged lightly, as he began to ravage the man's feet, furiously taking off his boots, and shoving them back onto his own feet. Sualk glanced at the dead man, and sighed heavily. He took his arms and gently put them over his chest, and closed his eyes with a wave of his hand.

"Find your gods, and rest." He said lightly.

" _Trying to starve me, Skulk?_ " Aetozar demanded. Sualk smirked.

"He gave me something. I should give him something. Peace in the afterlife." He replied. Aetozar growled in frustration and anger.

" _Fine._ " The daemon grumbled. Sualk stood up, and drew the black blade once more. It was time to bear the scythe.

/

Eldrad silently hummed to himself, as he looked upon the runes of fortune. Dozens of these runes were scattered around him, placed in rather specific locations, forming the rune of khaine. Battle was soon coming, one that could shape the possible outcome of his entire race. It was pivotal that nothing went wrong. If there was even one mistake, years of planning and manipulation would be wasted, and lost.

He heard light footsteps, heading towards his direction. He frowned mentally, as he stood up, and turned around.

Two Striking Scorpions were standing in the doorway, urgency scrawled all over their faces.

"Farseer. The ork and his pet are gone." One of them stated.

"What?!" Eldrad snapped in anger, his patient and calm face completely gone at the sound of those words. The two aspect warriors glanced between each other, before one of them spoke.

"The ork and his pet have disappeared, replaced by an intricate duplicate." He stated. Eldrad barged forward, controlling his anger.

"Let me see!" He demanded. The aspect warriors led him to the orks makeshift prison. Feces was dotted against the walls, along with blood. The stench of urine made Eldrad's nostrils crunch up in discomfort, as he approached the cell door, and opened it. He took several steps inside, looking at the so called 'disguises' of the two prisoners.

As he approached them, he gently poked it. The disguise of Unkle fell to the ground. Eldrad became even more furious. The prisoners had escaped, and in order to conceal their escape, they replaced themselves with intricate cardboard cut outs. As the Farseer touched the cutout, it fell to the ground, along with it, a note. Eldrad painfully noticed that it was written with horrifically smelling feces. The note said 'Yer as gullible as Girlyman!'

He crumbled up the note, his nostrils flaring. He then calmed himself down.

"No matter. The dimensional teleporter is still intact. Prepare the craftworlds forces. We may just have to make the invasion earlier." He grumbled. The aspect warriors nodded, as they went to go inform their surrogates. Eldrad put his arms behind his back, and left the cell, unaware of a small camera in the back of the room, recording everything he said.

Unkle, who was lounging on a sofa half way across the galaxy let out a smirk, as he was casually toying with his prized fancy shoota.

"So dats wot dose gits were up too." He said to himself, chuckling.

"Heh. Toime travel. Can't kill a god loike dat." He added on, as he stood up, and glanced at Nibbla, who was sitting in the corner of his personal room, casually playing catch with a ripper he had spawned.

"Oi, Nibs! Hope ya dont moind eldar meat, cuz dey just crossed da wrong ork." He growled, chuckling darkly. He could always use more soulstones for his… 'research'.

/

So guys, I was planning on doing a ME and Warhammer crossover. Obviously, ME has a large audience to work off of, and I want to make something a bit unique. I'm currently looking for either ideas, or a co author to help me write it. I don't really know what to offer in return, rather then my everlasting gratitude. PM me if you would like to.


	73. Chapter 72: Machinations of War

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So here is another chapter.

Do note this is a prelude to a larger section.

Also, do keep sending your ideas for my next piece of work.

I really do appreciate them :)

Anyways, Enjoy.

Lofn took a deep breath, taking in a large influx of air, before she sighed heavily. She cleared her throat, and knocked lightly on the wooden pole that held the tent up.

"Come in." A voice growled. _This can't go that bad…_ she thought to herself, as she stepped in.

In the corner of the tent, was Klaus. He was slowly juggling his knife, throwing it into the air and catching it with finesse, before waiting for several seconds, and doing it again. He glanced at her, and his face turned into a frown, before he glanced back at his hands.

"Make it quick." Klaus grumbled, still apparently angry. She could imagine why. She took another deep breath, before she began.

"Listen, Klaus. I am… really, really sorry about what happened." She said. Klaus stopped juggling his knife, giving her a sideway glare.

"Do you REALLY think that's going to cut it?" He asked quietly, before he went back to juggling his knife.

"Look you're not making this any easier for me." She sighed. He gave her another sideways glance.

"Am I supposed to?" He asked. Lofn stayed quiet. She knew this was going to be hard, but it seemed that Klaus had prepared for this.

"Lofn, you are incompetent. You had me interested, and then you royally frakked everything over. Do you expect me to forgive you after putting nano scarabs into my brain, betraying my trust, and then having sex with me when clearly both of us were not in the right mind, for what? Common courtesy?" He snapped aloud. He stopped throwing his knife just long enough for his next sentence.

"Listen Lofn. As much as it pains me to say it, you are a nice woman. I'm sure somewhere out there in your deranged, messed up world, you will find your true love. You'll settle down somewhere, get fat, maybe have some children, or emperor knows what." He proclaimed.

"But I will feel forever sorry for the man that puts a ring on your finger, because that man better watch his back for the rest of his miserable existence, because who knows how many knives he will find in his spine." He added on. He paused for a moment, before he smirked.

"Now that I think about it, I believe that you have more eldar blood in you then human. You really are a manipulating snake, because I can't imagine a human who would stab their partners in the back after earning their trust, something that I never thought would be possible." He said, his face turning into a sneer.

"What do you want from me?! I said sorry, i've begged for your forgiveness, but you just sit there and laugh like some noble spitting upon the feet of a begging peasant! What do I have to do to make it up to you?!" She snapped in both anger, sorrow, and frustration. Klaus raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by her tenacity. Klaus looked at her for a full minute, not saying anything. He then sighed heavily.

"I'm going to regret this." He whispered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear. He then glanced up at her, and frowned.

"You want my forgiveness? Fine. I'll give you one week. I'll give you one week to find a way to make me say sorry. After that, it's over. I'll hold this grudge until the day I die. And if you're there, begging for it, I'll just smile, and say 'Piss off'. I'll die a happy man. I don't know if I can say the same for you." He added. Lofn sighed heavily. If that's the best she can get out of him, then that was something she could work with. She was about to leave, when he stopped her.

"And don't tell Bluddflagg ANYTHING about what we just talked about. If we do, none of your gods are saving you." He threatened. She nodded, and closed the flap behind her. She sighed guiltily, fixing her hair. Was it all worth it? Just for him? When the time came… could she do it?

/

Sualk frowned to himself, basking in the early morning rays. The raid on the Alliance Camp was a complete success. Most of the soldiers were slain, and those that ran were taken captive. Only the ones who surrendered peacefully, were set free. Of course, in a certain direction.

One thing Sualk did not understand about his chaotic brethren, was the sheer lack of morality they had. Kill the ones who fought, enslave the ones who ran, that was fine with him. However, they lacked no mercy to those who surrendered. Sure, it was a cowardly thing to do, but no one really wanted to die in the end. No promise of basking in any gods glory could really prevent such a primal fear.

Confident in his success, he came back expecting to basked in praise and a job well done. Instead, he only got sideway glances and mumbles of approval. Something that was the complete opposite of what normally happened.

Sualk was more than confused. He was outraged. How dare these pathetic dogs not give any respect to not only a son of krieg, but one born on the blessed homeworld of the originator of the glorious God Lord of Man, Terra! He was furious, seething even. Even his minion, Aetozar, noticed his uncompromisable anger and fury, that he kept low, and dared not to test his fury.

Nothing could sate his anger at the moment, except for one thing. War.

So it was here that he barged into the chamber of the greater horror, seething in rage. He barged through the secured door, growling in anger.

"Horror! I demand battle!" He snapped in anger. The horror glanced up, setting down a large scroll covered with daemonic incantations. The horror seemed angry at first, its face contorted into something that looked like rage. However, it then shifted into a crooked and mutated smile, showing its pointed, twisted and gnarled teeth.

"Of course. Anything for such a loyal follower." The horror smiled. Sualk growled lowly.

"Do not test me daemon. My anger is great, and I have little patience for your mind games." He growled. The daemon paused for a moment.

"I demand to know where our enemies are. I seek to slay them." He proclaimed, confident of his abilities. He had served as a Master Sergeant for nearly twenty years of his seventy years of service. He had lead mutants, xenos converts, guardsmen, and chaos space marines to battle, and had won plenty of these battles. Of course, he had never lead a campaign. That was for Lords.

The horror glared at him for several moments, before it snorted.

"Very well. If you wish to know, there is a large camp of mortals and unbelievers, several miles away from our location. I will admit, they are proving to be slightly… problematic. They have not fallen into my plans, and I lack the energy to manipulate them any further." The daemon admitted. It sighed heavily, glancing at him.

"So you will dispose of them. Your success on the raid of the mortal camp has pleased me, but be aware. There is a mortal there, from a time like ours." It said, as it stalked forward, snatching its staff.

"Is that so?" Sualk asked, crossing his arms. The daemon grinned savagely. It let out a mumble, waving its staff.

A black pool of energy formed on the wall of the cave, mutating and forming into a figure. Sualk looked into the shape deeply, before he let out a gasp of shock and horror.

"What…" He mumbled, biting his lips bloody. The horror grinned slightly.

"An imposter, from a realm like yours, in which the dark gods failed in their takeover of the imperium." It stated. Sualk didn't even process the thought of how the horror knew he was from a different dimension, but he processed one thing right now. He was angry.

"Their Imperium did not serve the dark gods, but defies them at every opportunity. How… how does that make you feel?" The horror asked, his leathery yet daemonic voice pooling into the guardsman ears. He growled in anger and rage, clenching his fists so hard that his knuckles cracked.

"It makes me feel like digging a grave for this fool." He growled. The Horror smirked.

"Perhaps. But what if you… enlightened him?" He asked quietly. Sualk froze.

"You're saying…"

"If you can… keep him alive. You will lead the attack tomorrow. I'll spare what forces I can." The horror whispered, chuckling lightly, before he walked away. It glanced back at him, and smiled.

"Now go. My work is almost finished." It said. Sualk nodded, as he left the horror to its own machinations.

" _You must be a fool to believe him._ " Aetozar grumbled.

"Fortune favors the foolish." Sualk replied calmly. The daemon snorted.

" _Hmph. Metaphors._ " The daemon grumbled. Sualk took a deep breath, relieving himself of his anger. If there was another son of krieg on this world, then he would be more then happy to enlighten him to the proper alignment… if he didn't destroy him first, that was.

/

Bluddflagg kicked back, covering his eyes with the brim of his hat. The cool winter breeze blew onto his sweaty skin. The ork sighed heavily, wishing that he had some brew to drink. The ork took a deep breath, and sighed. Things were good. He flexed his massive powa klaw, letting the shiny, slightly blood encrusted metal glint in the sunset rays. Bluddflagg was about to take a nap, when he felt someone prod him lightly. He lazily opened one of his eyes.

"Twig." The ork started, clearing his throat, by spitting out a fat glob of saliva, mucus, and blood. Said glob of bodily fluids landed ten feet away from the ork, splattering on the outskirts of the Argent Tournament.

"Bluddflagg, I need your help." Lofn stated, as she sat right next to him. The ork glanced down at her.

"Shoor." He grunted, his voice muffled as he reached into his iron gob, scratching his golden fang.

"Bluddflagg. I… I messed up." Lofn shakily said. Bluddflagg glanced down at her again in surprise. She was almost on the verge of tears. Uh oh. He didn't sign up for this shit. Best if he got out while he could. He was about to stand up, when he felt a pair of hands on his engorged muscles.

"Please, don't leave." Lofn begged, the firmness that was often in her voice falling apart faster than Bluddflagg's confidence in the current situation.

"Foine foine." The ork grumbled, glancing up at the sun, squinting hard. He had another round of cards with Melm. He was determined to settle the score, after Melm beat him at the second round.

"Make it quick doe. I got kards ta play, and stuntys ta beat." The ork added on, grinning to himself.

"Bluddflagg, I messed up. I really messed up." Lofn began. The ork rolled his eyes slightly, but he decided to hear the twig out. Maybe he could extort something out of her though. Alcohol probably.

"Lately I've been pretty… bad with Klaus. I'm really sorry, but I have no idea how to prove it to him." She stated. Bluddflagg let out a barely audible 'huh', scratching the bottom of his chin. He picked at a scab in particular, scratching it with his only remaining hand. Ripping off the piece of hardened flesh, he popped it into his mouth, chewing it slowly.

"Roight. Keep goin." The ork grumbled.

"So I went to him to ask for his forgiveness. He said that I have one week to figure out a way to make him forgive me, but I have no idea how to do it." She added on. The ork glanced at her.

"Roight…" He said, scratching his chin again, getting the tips of his fingers getting covered in dark ichor.

"Can you help me?" Lofn asked. This caught Bluddflagg completely off guard.

"Wot?" He asked, still confused about what she stated.

"Can you help me earn Klaus's forgiveness." She explained. Bluddflagg let out a 'huh'.

"Woi doe?" He asked. Lofn sighed heavily.

"Bluddflagg, where I come from, If I stepped out of line once, I would have been killed. Abuse is standard for me. Believe it or not, Klaus was the nicest person I ever met. He is the only person I could ever consider a friend." She said. She then glanced at the towering ork, and smirked.

"Don't worry. I can't forget about you." She said. Bluddflagg chuckled. Lofn's light mood soured however.

"But I screwed it up. I had an opportunity, and I wasted it, and now I need help. Your, help." She said. Bluddflagg sighed. He normally wouldn't offer his help, since he didn't meddle in stuff like this. However, there was something he could gain from this. Winning his bet (posthumously) against Mista Nailbrain. He felt a small pang in his heart at the mention of that, before he grinned wolfishly.

"Count me in. Wot we doin?"

/

Klaus fiddled with his thumbs, toying with his knife idly. He was waiting for someone. Rather, for someone to see.

"Come in." A gruff voice said from inside the regal tent. Klaus cleared his throat, as he entered the tent, gently lifting the flap and crouching. He crept inside, and let the flap fall behind him, before he glanced back at the center of the tent.

An old man sat at a chair, and a small table inside of the tent, but Klaus was not fooled. He was dressed in regal gold and steel armor, with the tabard of the Argent Crusade draped across his chest, letting it fall between his legs. At his side, was his massive sword. Klaus had recently noticed that many weapons in Azeroth seemed… unwieldy. How was it even possible that Fording could pick up his sword, let alone use it? It was nearly his own length, with a massive blade nearly a foot long. Near the bottom of the blade was a large golden orb, once that seemingly floated without any assistance. Magic, no doubt.

"Make it quick. I have business to attend too." The old man said, looking at several pieces of paper that were strewn across the table. Klaus nodded, clearing his throat again.

"Mr. Fordring, I woul-"

"Don't call me that. Just call me Tirion." He said, his gruff facade melting away into a pleasant one. Klaus sighed inwardly.

"I thought he would be a hardass." Grenadier Klaus admitted, flipping through an imaginary catalogue of the finest gasmask models.

"I thought he would be taller." Priest Klaus added on, getting both of the personalities to grumble their own expectations of the leader of the Argent Crusade. Klaus glared at them, before he looked at the man.

"Tiri-"

"Who are you, anyways? I don't think I remember you." Tirion asked, slightly scratching his chin. Klaus raised an eyebrow.

"Klaus." He simply said.

"Klaus what?" Tirion asked. Klaus scratched the back of his head.

"It's just Klaus. Mistress Jaina sent me here. I assume you have the proper paperwork." Klaus added on. Tirion looked at him for a whole minute, before he let out an 'ah'

"So you're the dimensional traveller with the weird weapons, as she described." Tirion said. Klaus raised an eyebrow. Sometimes he swore that sorceress had the mind of a child.

"Yes. I'm the dimensional traveller with the weird weapons." He said, noting how stupid that sounded when he said it aloud.

"Well, welcome to Azeroth. I hope your stay has been good so far." Tirion said, winking at him. Klaus snorted mentally, noting his hint of sarcasm. At least he had a sense of humor. Somewhat.

"It's been pleasant. However, pleasantries aside, that's not what I came for." Klaus admitted. Tirion nodded, his light mood mutating back into the gruff and serious one he had adopted earlier.

"Of course. Speak your mind." He said. Klaus sighed.

"I'm sure you were aware of the attack yesterday." He stated. Tirion gave him a grim look.

"Yes, I am aware. I assume that you know what those things were." Klaus nodded.

"Yes. They are the forces of the chaos gods. I do not have any idea why the attacked, only that they did. However, I must warn you before it's too late." He grumbled.

"The forces of chaos are coming in great number. They seek to invade this planet, and defile it with their pestilent and unholy touch. Hordes of daemons and unstoppable soldiers will stream from portals soon enough, after they have finished what dirty work they seek to accomplish." He continued.

"So I must say it now. We must prepare ourselves for more assaults. I have… friends… who are trying to help in every way they can." He added on.

"You have fought them before?" Tirion asked. Klaus nodded.

"I will gladly give my life just to take down one more of those disgusting creatures if I had the opportunity. Scores of mutants, daemons, and heretics have already been felled by Bolter and Sword." He said. Tirion glared at him suspiciously.

"How do I know if you are a spy?" He asked inquisitively. Klaus growled.

"A bold accusation. Make one like that again, and you won't have any fingers left to defend yourself next time." Klaus threatened. To this, Tirion only chuckled.

"I believe you. However, how can we not know when an attack is imminent?" He asked. To this, someone burst through the tent flap. It was a Blood Elf, one who was panting heavily.

"Sire! News from the south!" The Blood Elf said, gasping and panting for breath.

"What is it?" Tirion asked, raising up from his chair.

"Alliance soldiers! They are streaming from the north, and report an undead army on the way!" The Blood Elf said. Tirion patted the elf on his shoulder.

"Get your weapons, rally the men and women." Tirion said, glaring at Klaus.

"I hope you don't mind killing some undead." He grumbled. Klaus shrugged.

"An enemy of man is an enemy to me." He said. Tirion smirked.

"I think I like you." Tirion said, clapping the guardsmen on the back. The two left the tent, preparing their weapons for the battle to come.


	74. Chapter 73: The Last Stand (Pt 1)

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So good news, my PC has been fixed. Yay.

So here is the first part.

Should be around three or four parts.

So anyways, enjoy.

Klaus fixed his combat shield onto his arm, securing it with several leather straps. He flicked the refractor field on it, letting a blue shimmer of energy envelop the metal device. He turned it off. He grabbed his plasma pistol with his left hand, slipping inside a new plasma cell into the pistol. He was still weary of using this thing. Though he was positive that it would be effective, he was more concerned of the superheated steam that could be released if the failsafe was triggered, most likely melting the flesh off of his bones, and then probably melting the bones shortly after. He shrugged to himself. Part of the job, he supposed. He took his sword out of its sheathe, drawing it slowly. He then yanked it out with a flourish. The tip of his blade glinted in the sun, which was now being obscured by dark grey clouds. Klaus could feel small particles of snow, falling from the heavens above. To this, he frowned. He always wanted to die in nice weather, but he supposed that this would do.

"Ya ready ta do sum krumpin humie?" Bluddflagg asked from his side, as he was slapping on as much of his skrap armor as he could, since without proper maintenance and repair, was falling apart, quite literally. The ork quite literally had to shove bits and pieces of his scrap armor onto specially designed bolts and pegs that had been buried underneath the orks skin. Webs of scar tissue and dark lines that eerily looked like blood poisoning surrounded each of these many pegs, but the ork didn't seem to mind. Klaus smirked lightly.

"I pity these undead. They will know our wrath." He stated. Bluddflagg hooted aloud, pounding his chest.

"Ha ha ha, yeah!" Bluddflagg howled.

"Good to see that you two are ready." Melm said, slipping on his slightly horned helmet. Klaus glanced at the dwarf, who was grabbing his shield and axe.

"I assume that the Argent Crusade do not like the undead." Klaus said. Melm let out a grunt, clanging his axe on his shield.

"They despise them. They are going to fight to their last breath, because they know what's going to happen if they lose this." He said. Klaus gravely thought about the undead creatures he had killed before, coming to the thought that they were once innocent men and women and children. Klaus decided he did not like these undead. This so called, Scourge. The fact that the Argent Crusade would fight to their last also pleased Klaus. He wouldn't have to waste any rounds on them.

"Right lads, let's move." Melm said, as he quickly entered his tent, grabbing a flask of what appeared to be brew. He then left, glancing at Klaus.

"Where's the girl?" He asked. Klaus growled in anger and frustration at the sound of this, glancing around. Lofn had been gone for hours . Bluddflagg shrugged.

"Hoidin, maybe." He said, snickering at his own comment. The dwarf sighed.

"They say the undead horde are in their thousands. I'm not sure how many of us are left, but it's certainly not that high." Melm whispered slightly. Klaus could feel it too. The sense of dread that hang like a low cloud. Fear swamped Klaus's nostrils. He looked at the crusaders who were still arming themselves. They wore facades of confidence and bravery, but deep down, Klaus knew they were afraid. As he walked past groups of crusaders, he heard whispered prayers to their gods, asking to live for another day. Klaus couldn't blame the, necessarily. He knew no fear, but these people did.

"The sense of dread is palpable. These men do not seem well in fighting condition." He mumbled, noticing in particular a night elf crying into the shoulder of what possibly was her brother. He whispered assurance to her sister, holding her in his arms.

"With the attack yesterday, they are in no spirits for one." Melm replied back. "Lots of people lost friends. Family. Saw them get cut down or get turned into… those things." Melm saying, Klaus knowing what he meant. Chaos Spawn.

Bluddflagg then started to chant. Klaus glanced at the ork, whose two eyes was locked towards the sky. He was letting out a garbled string of phrases.

"Shoot! Smash! Stomp! Chop!" He yelled aloud. Melm and Klaus stopped walking, glancing at the massive warboss. Dozens of eyes were drawn towards the mighty warboss. The ork peered around, grinning to himself. He slammed his chest with each word he spoke, as he repeated the sentence.

"Shoot! Smash! Stomp! Chop!" He shouted again.

"Shoot!" Someone in the background shouted. Klaus turned around to see Amora. She was dressed in leather armor and cloth robes, giving her a fair amount of protection but also allowing for some litheness. In her hands were two lithe and light daggers, nearly as long as her forearms. She walked right next to Bluddflagg, looking into the large mob of crusaders. A steady stream of crusaders trickled into the background, all looking upon the scene with confusion and curiosity. Klaus blushed slightly, feeling embarrassed that he even knew this buffoon.

"Smash!" Melm yelled aloud, clanging his axe against his round shield. Klaus glanced at the dwarf.

"What the hell are you doing?" Klaus hissed at him, though the dwarf said nothing in return.

"Stomp!" An orc bellowed, stepping forward with a large crooked scimitar. This orc carried chainmail and solid chunks of steel on his frame, a leather helmet and iron mask covering his face, though it left his mouth uncovered. Klaus slowly got the gist of what the ork was doing. He was preparing for battle. He was preparing for the WAAAGH! He had seen orks do this before. When the fighting spirit was low, their leaders would often spur their fellow brethren into a living green tide of saliva, steel, gunpowder, and flesh. They did so by chanting rude and barbaric phrases and curses, working them up into a frenzy. Orks were impressionable creatures, but it seemed that Bluddflagg was trying to work the crusaders up into ship shape. Klaus sighed to himself, knowing that he was going to have to pray hard for this.

"Chop!" He shouted aloud, slamming his sword against his shield. Bluddflagg looked down at him, and grinned. Klaus felt slightly embarrassed, but if this ploy would work...

"Shoot!" They all shouted together, pounding their weapons against each other, letting out a resounding clang of metal against metal. Klaus could feel a surge of energy within him. It was a like a booster shot of vitality and energy was released into his bloodstream. He suddenly felt… angry, for some reason.

"Smash!" They continued, as more and more began to rally near Bluddflagg, following along with the battle cry. Orcs, Trolls, Blood Elves, Night Elves, Draenei, Gnomes, Humans, followed the warboss's lead. They began to march towards the battlefield, attracting the attention of more and more weary crusaders.

"STOMP!" The crowd now shouted, a massive press of nearly one hundred crusaders and warriors, shouting together. Within this massive crowd of people, Klaus suddenly realised the genius of what Bluddflagg has done. By giving these crusaders someone to rally too, he gave them courage. He gave them hope. Klaus still thought Bluddflagg was an idiot, but this rare spark of intelligence seemed to prove him otherwise. Of course, it was just a spark.

"CHOP!" A massive roar came, spittle flying from Bluddflagg's maw. Swords, axes, hammers, bows, muskets, spears, halberds and magical staffs were raised into the air, a deafening reply coming from the masses. Klaus thought about it for a moment, before he shrugged, raising his own weapon into the air, copying the dozens of people around him.

"SHOOT!" Bluddflagg roared aloud, raising his massive powa klaw into the air.

"SMASH!" The mob shouted back, raising their weapons into the air.

"STOMP!" He bellowed, his voice sounding off like a cannon. They were heading towards the entrance of the tournament, where Tirion and his most elite followers were already there. Klaus, who was slightly ahead of the crowd, caught his gaze. Though it was first critical, it simply turned into something of amusement.

"CHOP!' The mob followed back. They stopped, as they had reached their destination. Bluddflagg smiled smugly to himself, crossing his massive arms over his equally massive torso.

"Now dats a posh, wurked up, buncha gits." He whispered to Klaus, chuckling lightly, as he followed the mob, since they had fallen behind. Klaus realised with a jolt that the ork actually heard him. He shrugged then. If it works, then it works.

Bluddflagg didn't even have to say the phrases anymore. Melm and Amora surfaced out of the crowd, the mob of crusaders forming into a long battle line. Klaus glanced back at Tirion, who merely nudged towards the battle line. A flush of red heat flooded his face. For the first time in awhile, he was excited. He missed this. Underneath his gasmask, a grin formed on his lips, as he eagerly entered the line, and straightened himself out without a second thought. Bluddflagg followed his lead, standing right next to the humie.

Klaus was idly wondering where the hell was Lofn. He then shrugged to himself.

"Forget her. Forget all about her. Focus on the enemy at hand." Grenadier Klaus said, patting Klaus on the neck. And Klaus did.

Though the visibility was poor, one hundred meters away, Klaus could see the outline of hordes of undead. Klaus glanced back at the remnants of the Argent Crusade. Serving for years in the corps, Klaus could easily do a headcount of the crusaders present. Nearly eight hundred, though more were still trickling into view. So they were outnumbered. Nice.

"According to this data." Priest Klaus said, looking at a clipboard, pen in hand. "We have roughly a 6.71% chance that we will survive."

"Good! I've crapped harder losses then this!" Grenadier Klaus said proudly. Priest Klaus winced slightly.

"Gross." He grumbled. Klaus felt an elbow to his side. He glanced down, seeing Melm right beside him.

"You ready to kill some undead scum?" He asked. To this, Klaus smirked.

"Hell to the yes." He said encouragingly, though in reality, he was far from excited.

/

The sound of dozens of feet crushing and stomping on snow was loud, but the howling wind was louder. However, the ceramite encrusted power armor easily prevented the deadly winter chill.

Ten Chaos Space Marines marched forward, and at their head, was their leader. Somewhat.

Sualk was not very pleased. They had marched for hours, and while this would happen, Aetozar simply wouldn't shut up. For the past few hours, he had been talking nonstop about his findings of this world, using information he had garnered from the consumed souls of those slain in the raid yesterday. He talked non stop about alliances, hordes, xenos, undead, magic, and items. Sualk couldn't simply shut the daemon out, since they are more then less part of each other. With ownership of a daemon, there was a usually large chance that their essence would meld together into an inseparable bond. If Sualk ever died, then Aetozar would dissolve into nothingness too. They both knew what would happen if such a thing occurred, so while the daemon often jested about the slow, painful, and downright agonizing torture he would commit upon the guardsmen if he was ever freed, Sualk really knew he was toying with him. Trying to scare him, and inspire terror within him.

He scratched his nose underneath his warpforged mask, retracting his hand to see a bit of translucent mucus. He shriveled his nose, flinging it away in slight disgust.

" _Grossed out by boogers?_ " Aetozar asked curiously, chuckling lightly. Sualk snorted loudly, drawing the attention of at least one of his cohort.

"No. Just never had that before." He grumbled. He reached into his coat, pulling out a handkerchief, to which he rubbed his nose furiously.

" _Awwww whats wrong? Does my rattling of a master can't handle a little cold?_ " Aetozar asked quietly.

"Well, usually we are either fighting in the warp or on daemon planets. Cold is not a concept to which I am familiar with." he said in defense.

" _Mhm. Sure._ " Aetozar simply said. Sualk ignored the daemon, as they stopped marching. One of the forward scouts had returned.

The mutant creature breathed heavily, clutching its mighty spear in a death's grasp.

" _Report._ " Aetozar said aloud, the daemons voice vibrating from the blade. Aetozar knew most of these creatures languages, and as so, Sualk let Aetozar do the talking.

"My masters." The mutant breathed, its garbled speech unpleasing to the ear. "A large undead host lies between us and the argent crusade." He said, grasping his chest. Sualk approached him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and heaving him up.

" _Numbers?_ " Aetozar asked aloud. The mutant breathed in and out for a few moments.

"In the thousands. They outnumber us dozens to one." He growled.

" _An Undead host lies ahead of us. They outnumber us dozens to one. We should seek an alternate route._ " Aetozar suggested. Sualk took this in, and shook his head.

"No. We will engage in glorious battle, and earn the favor of the gods themselves!" He proclaimed aloud, getting a few cheers with him.

Sualk knew that most of the chaos space marines still did not respect the fact that he was there leader. He could understand why. They were gods among men, serving even more powerful gods. To entertain the idea that these demigods would be lead by a mere mortal man would be absurd to them. He earned a fair amount after he butchered the Chosen Space Marine, who apparently was one of the least liked space marines in the camp.

Most of them were armed with standard weapons, including Bolters, chainswords and bolt pistols. Two specialists, armed with meltas and plasma guns, one Havoc, still hoisting a Heavy Bolter with him. And finally, a single champion of khorne, armed with a pair of lightning claws. Said champion was obviously the most supportive for the chance to fight and possibly die in glorious combat.

" _How far is this host?_ " Aetozar asked quietly.

"Not far. A ten minute walk from here." The mutant growled.

" _Ten minute walk._ " Aetozar reported. Sualk nodded.

"The enemies of the dark gods are only a rocks throw away. We shall teach them their errors! Their corpses will litter the fields, their bodies will become fertilizer for the dark fetishes and fruits of the chaos gods! Glory to chaos, and glory to the gods!" Sualk stated. Yet again, only a few cheers came from the cohort of chaos space marines. Sualk sighed, clapping the mutant on the back. Perhaps he needed to earn their respect, seeing as they did not truly believe his higher standing.

" _Report back to the camp._ " Aetozar commanded. The mutant nodded, as it scurried away into the fog.

" _Looks like we have our work cut out for us._ " The daemon grumbled. Sualk shrugged, flexing his muscles.

"I could use the exercise." He simply stated, hopefully ending the conversation.

/

"I won't lie to you men. Chances are, many wont of us won't survive." Tyrion said aloud, as he slowly paced across the massive block of crusaders. The sound of hushed breathing and the sound of moving steel could be heard from the crowd.

Bluddflagg wasn't really one for courageous speeches. Or for speeches period. Too much talking, and not enough fighting.

However, on this occasion, he could see why. These posh humies and other gits weren't in the fighting spirit, that much was clear. Though he did his best to rally the ladz, it didn't do all that much. There was a humie term he had heard before. "Lead by Exampul" or, something like that. He suppose he could try doing that.

"However! I know that within you is the same spirit, the same drive, that led you here in the first place!" Tyrion shouted again, pacing back to the right.

"Within you is the fighting spirit, the courage, the will, that will lead us to victory!" He cried. The horde of undead were closer now. Bluddflagg could faintly see distinct features, but he saw the shuffling hordes of zombies. He saw perfect blocks of marching skeletons, each of their footsteps moving with unnatural accuracy and perfection. He could see hideous ghouls, lowly creatures that hide amongst the meatshields, eager to leap at the living and tear them apart. Bluddflagg cared little. All he saw were a bunch of pasty gits. There was nothing more that he enjoyed in this wurld then krumping some pasty gits.

From his mighty trophy rack, his trophies quietly hung, clunking against each other every now and then. The peering skull of that giant bat he had killed in the Undercity watched slowly, absorbing all of the information it could.

"Forward! Charge forward, for ruin of the Lich King's pawns! Charge Forward, for the death of the Scourge! Charge for your countrymen! Charge for your family, and friends!" He said aloud. He then growled, the old man turning towards the horde of the undead. He drew his flashy choppa, swingin it about.

"ATTACK! LEAVE NONE ALIVE!" Tyrion screamed, as he stampeded forward like a mad bull, down to the mist pumping out of his nose and mouth.

"ALROIGHT YA GITS! COME GIT SUM!" Bluddflagg roared aloud, following the old humie. With this, the Argent Crusader's charged. Hundreds of boots slammed into the ground, the sound of hundreds of battle cries and prayers to gods could be heard, following the massive block of Crusaders.

To Bluddflagg, this was all but white noise. He could give less of a shit to the gits that followed him. The only thing that he was concerned about was killing some pasty gits. It was time to show these undead the reason why they called him Bluddflagg.

The distance between the ork and the undead horde was quickly shrinking. He had long passed Tyrion, the old git being too slow to catch up to the now frenzied ork.

Ten meters.

Bluddflagg breathed in and out, quick and massive gulps of air being shoved into his lungs. Thick clouds of steam and mist were expelled from his ripped and scarred nostrils, moving the golden nose ring that was embedded into the cartilage and flesh.

Eight meters.

His humongous powa klaw flexed itself, the adamantium, titanium, and steel metal moving with the electronics and cables embedded within. A quick golden flash of energy revealed to the ork that the powa field was currently active.

Four meters.

Bluddflagg gathered within him the last vestiges of his breath, and jumped. Time slowed down to a crawl. As the warboss soared through the air, his mouth slowly opened. A deep and powerful warcry was released from his vocal chords. This bestial sound traveled up his throat, and out of his mouth, rolling off his tongue with ease.

" **WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHH!** " He screamed, as he collided into the first ranks of undead.

The sheer amount of kinetic energy, along with his weight (Nearly being half a ton) slammed down into a group of twenty zombies. His feet and extended arms crashed through the frail flesh and bone of the zombies. They simply evaporated underneath his weight, being crushed into oblivion. The resulting shockwave of his massive stomp shook the front ranks of the undead block, sending dozens more flying.

A primal rage had overtaken the ork. He was not concerned with safety. He was not concerned with anything else, but the thrill to kill.

Reaching into his squig hide sheath, he yanked out his Kustom Shoota. He unloaded a hail of gunfire, ignoring the press of zombies that congregated at his feet and legs. He held the trigger, wildly spraying the rain of dakka everywhere. A rain of dark ichor sprayed his arm, as he gunned down dozens of pasty gits. A leaping ghoul was sent to the warp, a bullet the size of a finger colliding into its head. Several zombies slammed into the ground, nothing more than a bleeding sack of meat.

A ghoul leaped onto the orks arm, chomping down on his arm.

"Zog!" Bluddflagg snarled in anger more than anything, as the ghoul had disrupted his aim, now making the shoota shoot at the ground near his feet, still earning an impressive amount of kills. Bluddflagg retaliated in the only way he knew, by slamming the ghoul into his chest, the strength of the ork easily smashing its bony frame into pieces. He glanced down at the zombies that were nibbling on his feet and legs.

Their rotten and malformed teeth were having severe trouble trying to bite through his thick, leathery flesh. If anything it tickled in its own little, disgusting and morbid way. The ork giggled slightly. He slammed his powa klaw into the ground, turning several zombies into jelly, the ingredients being pulverized flesh, gray matter, and shattered bones.

The rest of the Argent Crusade had catched up with the ork. A tide of steel blades slammed into the undead that had surrounded the ork, cutting through the thick swathe that had surrounded him. Aware of the spacial differences, he pressed forward, making sure that he was at least ten feet away from the crowds of Crusaders. He didnt want to do some good old fashioned friendly fire.

Bluddflagg went back to work, scooping up a zombie and shoving it into his mouth, biting down hard. He then recoiled in disgust, and spat it out, taking a break from smashing pasty gits to wipe away the blood and pus that was on his tongue. He shook it free, suddenly noticing a large creature approaching his way.

An Abomination charged towards him, letting out a foul battlecry. In its multiple hands was a massive clever, a meat hook, and a… frying pan. Bluddflagg eagerly accepted its challenge, as he charged forward, pushing through the mob of zombies and skeletons that had gathered around him. He stomped through them, crushing several groups of these foul creatures underneath his boots.

The Abomination let out a squeal, as it swung its meat cleaver down at the ork. Bluddflagg, simply being too big to dodge the thing, caught it with his powa klaw. He buckled slightly under the force of the thing. This fat git was strong, but it wasn't as strong as him.

Bluddflagg stowed his shoota away, as his hand and fingers pressed together to form a mighty and powerful fist.

"Sukk on dis ya squig!" He shouted aloud, as he sent his fist rocketing forward. Within the creatures dumb glare, a sense of panic had formed. Bluddflagg's fist did not just hit its face. It demolished it. Its facial muscles and skin deformed horribly from his mighty blow. It let out a deformed squeal, dropping its massive cleaver to clutch its bleeding and ruined face.

Bluddflagg let out a little 'ooooh', noticing the massive choppa that was now on the ground. He scooped it up, and tested its strength, by winding it back, and swinging it down like an executioner's axe.

The cleaver cut through its skull and flesh with pathetic ease. It kept going down, shattering its collar bone into two. It traveled down its ribs and spine, cutting through the bone with little difficulty.

Finally, it reached the bottom of its torso, and then through its intestines and guts. It exited out of its sternum, and slammed into the ground, leaving an inch in the ground.

The Abomination didn't say anything, as it fell apart into two unequal pieces, its insides flooding the ground, leaving the now drained husk of its body.

Bluddflagg grinned savagely, holding up the massive cleaver to his eyes. He shook it lightly of blood. He slammed his powa klaw and his new massive choppa together, producing a mighty clang. He glanced back at the horde of undead, a glint in both his magical and biological eye. He smiled broadly, as he turned around, and went back to the one thing no one here could best him at. He went back to slaughtering. As he swept through the tide of undead, with weapons in both hands, he sighed to himself. He was at home.

/

Klaus in the meantime, was having much less fun. He headbutted a ghoul that had leaped at him, only to wildly miss its razor sharp talons. It stumbled back, letting out a hiss. He then pointed his plasma pistol straight into its face, and opened fire.

If Klaus was not wearing his gasmask, he may have been permanently blinded. Fortunately, the lenses in his gasmask prevented such a thing from occurring. However, this ghoul being blinded was the least of its concerns.

It let out a howl, as it quickly evaporated, turning into a steaming pile of ashes. He barely managed to get out of the way of the howling wight, as he then in turn bashed it in the head with his shield.

The repulsor field did exactly what it was marketed for. The shield smashed into its head, the field repulsing the head so hard that it was shot off like a missile, smacking right into a screaming ghoul that was charging towards him. It was knocked several feet back, where it was helpless to the shot of superheated plasma that struck it right in the temple.

Bluddflagg swept his powa klaw, sending several skeletons flying. The shambling messes of bones were sent flying, their construct quickly disassembling in front of him, the necromantic energies that held them together failing. Klaus snarled in pain, a femur smacking him right in the head, locking itself firmly on the crest of his helmet. He took the femur off, and threw it like a ball, smacking a zombie in the stomach. It keeled over, where Klaus could deliver the killing blow.

He brutally shoved his sword up its neck, getting a gout of black blood to burst out of its ruined and decayed body. He then dragged it upward, cutting its head open into two different halves.

"Ha ha! Now that's how it's done!" Grenadier Klaus shouted in praise, letting out a little cheer.

"Watch the left!" Priest Klaus screamed in alarm. Klaus glanced to his left, where a hulking skeleton let out a rattle. Klaus assumed it was its battlecry, before his eyes widened in alarm. He leaped back, a massive double headed axe smashing into the ground where he stood. The head of this weapon was nearly the size of Klaus's torso, yet somehow this thing carried this axe around like nothing.

Yet again, Klaus questioned simply how the hell people around here carried melee weapons like this. They were frakking massive for their size, and yet somehow, they carried it without no problems. Yet again, this thing was an undead creature, so god emperor knows what foul magic kept this thin-

The skeleton let out a cackle, as it swung its massive battle axe at him. He had virtually no time to dodge, so he held up his shield in defense. The axe clipped the very top of the shield, shattering the blade of it. The blades scattered, a particularly large shard getting lodged right into Klaus's shoulder pad. He glanced at the shoulder pad, a massive piece of black metal nearly the size of a plate stuck into the metal. He silently thanked the fact that he had these shoulder pads, as he retaliated by swinging his sword in a wide arc. He cut the thing in two, and it let out a dry hiss, as it fell into two pieces. Klaus went up to the thing, and smashed its head with his boot.

He heard a scream. He glanced in the direction, as he saw a blood elf being dragged down by a dozen zombies. Klaus looked away, knowing that he couldn't save the xenos. He heard his blood curdling scream, followed by the sound of flesh being ripped apart, and entrails being devoured.

That was the fourth Kameraden in Konflict that had died under his watch. Inside, he felt two emotions. One was a small pang of joy. Another xenos had been killed, and that gave him some sort of enjoyment. But he also felt sadness. If he was paying attention, instead of milling about, he possibly could have saved him.

As the Grenadier shoulder tackled a ghoul, and slammed his shield into its mouth, cutting it into two bloody, messy pieces, he had a decision to make. Either he willfully ignored his Kameraden and focused on keeping himself alive… or he actively tried to save them, at the risk of his own life.

To some, it wouldn't be a hard choice, but to him, it was something else entirely. He already had broken many oaths and promises. Of course, their was no way he could be punished for these things. There was no commissar to execute him for his war crimes. No tech priest to turn him into a mindless servitor. No inquisitor to brand him a traitor. And yet he still felt responsible.

There was no stepping around it. He was a renegade. Not a traitor, nor a heretic, but a renegade. He had abandoned the teachings of the Imperium, yet he still worshipped the emperor. What was he then?

Such a question could be compared to these foul, undead, creatures. He swung his sword, decapitating a zombie that was about to sneak up behind a spell caster. The old human turned around, seeing the now kneeling, headless creature, and let out a mumble of thanks. In return, his hands were lit with flame, as he shot out a caustic fireball. It barely managed to miss him, as Klaus turned to see that it had incinerated a pair of ghouls that were trying to rush him. Klaus nodded at him, as he engaged a pair of skeleton warriors.

Take these undead creatures. They were dead, but now they were undead. If he killed them now… what would they become? More dead? Dead? Deader? Alive?

If he would break more vows and oaths, what would he become? A heretic? More of a heretic? A renegade… a loyalist?

He was sure he could turn back. Head to the light. But what would he have to do to redeem himself in the emperor's eyes… his eyes? What if Karen, could see him now?

As he began to headbut a zombie to death, he considered that. If that daemon, the tzeentchian scum wasn't lying… but was telling the truth… then Karen would be alive.

Klaus would do nearly anything in the world to get her back, even for just one day. For one night, for any amount of time. It could even be seconds, and Klaus still wouldn't complain. He missed her dearly…

He stopped headbutting the zombie, its face now a bloody ruin, dropping its body like a sack of lasguns. He snatched his sword, which he had left on the ground. He heard a scream again. "Help!"

He glanced at the direction, and growled in frustration.

It was Amora. She had been isolated from the group she had been fighting with, and was now surrounded by a ring of zombies. Though she was holding her own, Klaus knew that she would be fresh meat if he didn't do anything.

"You don't have to do that Klaus, just let her die. Runs in the family." Grenadier Klaus said tauntingly, crossing his arms over his chest. Priest Klaus glared at him.

"Dude. Dick. Move." He growled. Grenadier Klaus shrugged.

"Your right. I should make that joke after she dies, not before. Pardon my manners." He said mockingly.

Klaus rushed forward, letting out a roar of frustration and anger, as he slammed aside a zombie, sending it tumbling backwards. The other undead turned to face him. Amora, seeing this opportunity, lunged forward with her daggers. She sliced one zombie's throat open, while stabbing another right in the head.

Klaus in turn shoved his sword into another zombie's stomach, smashing it in the head with the butt of his plasma pistol. It staggered back, only for him to kick it right in the nuts. Of course, this didn't do much, but it satisfied him slightly. It merely snarled at him, swinging at him with its claw. He shoved his sword into its mouth, twisting it, before he yanked it out.

He primed his plasma pistol, seeing a roaring abomination charge forward, swinging around two massive meathooks wildly. He fired a shot at its head. However, he missed slightly, grazing the area of its shoulder. He fired again. Another blinding burst of plasma was released from the barrel, scoring a hit right in the base of its neck. It let out a howl, a roar of rage and anger, as it collapsed to the ground, barely getting a hit in with its massive hook.

It slammed right into his carapace plating, the sheer strength behind the hit almost ripping it off of his greatcoat. Enraged at the sight of his uniform being desecrated by this foul thing, he shot bolt after bolt of plasma, ignoring the fact that each shot was essentially a flashbang grenade going off.

"CUT IT OUT!" Someone screamed elsewhere. Klaus sheepishly stopped, the creature's head literally being nothing but a smoldering pile of ashes.

Amora let out a gasp of pain, falling to her knees. A large gash from the tip of her collarbone travelled down to the bottom of her torso. Klaus offered the elf a helping hand. She took it, and he heaved her up. She wrapped her arms around his shoulder, and Klaus was painfully aware of the situation he was in. It was almost like a bad propaganda film. The brave Imperial Soldier, clutching the frightened damsel in distress, while he took on an entire horde of greenskins by himself.

"Try not firing that… thing." Amora said, gesturing to the plasma pistol. Klaus had to remember that no one here had proper protection from the glare of his weapon.

"Apologies. Let's go find you a medic." He grumbled, noticing a particularly large ghoul rushing towards him, letting out a roar of rage.

Amora chucked a knife at the thing. The dainty little dagger soared through the air, lodging itself right into its eye. It let out a howl, as it slipped and slid all the way right to Klaus's feet. He casually lifted his foot, and slammed it down, cracking its skull into two pieces.

"What's a medic?" Amora asked quietly, as Klaus focused on trying to keep her up. Her already pale skin was starting to pale even more. She was not doing well right now, and she was losing a fair amount of blood. Klaus sighed.

"Doctor. Healer. Bearded man with wand. Whatever you want to call them." He simply said, leaving it at that. He glanced down at her chest to examine the wound, before he got a slap right on the face.

"I didn't give you permission to look." Amora said coldly. Klaus blinked once.

"I'm checking to make sure that you aren't bleeding out too badly." He replied firmly.

"Uh huh. Sure." She grumbled. Klaus snorted mentally, deciding to be a bit cold.

"Believe me, you're nothing special to look at." He said, smashing a zombie aside with his combat shield. Both Grenadier and Priest Klaus let out an 'oooooooo'

"Dear god emperor." Grenadier Klaus said suddenly, laughing his ass off at his comment.

Suddenly, they heard a ferocious roar. Many of the Crusaders looked up into the air, to see something they truly wished they didn't.

It was a Frost Wyrm.

Klaus silently cursed to himself, taking his plasma pistol out of his belt.

"Son of a bitch." Priest Klaus mumbled.


	75. Chapter 74: The Last Stand (Pt 2)

**Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.**

Sorry for the long wait, and sorry for its shortness.

I promise, next part will be longer.

Enjoy!

"Son of a bitch." Priest Klaus mumbled.

"RUN!" Someone screamed. The mighty skeletal dragon let out a roar, its mighty wings flapping in the cold wind.

So there were dragons. At least, undead ones. Well, the last thing that would surprise him would be talking bears, or real life griffons, or dinosaurs.

The mighty Frost Dragon howled again, as it soared down, letting out something from its maw. An magical beam of ice was released from the creature's throat. This beam cut through a group of Argent Crusaders, killing dozens with this single beam of energy.

"By the god emperor, that thing is going to rip us the fuck apart!" Priest Klaus shouted. The Frost Wyrm let out another roar, as it flew across the skies, preparing to do another run. Klaus took out his boltgun, knowing what he had to do.

"We have to shoot that thing down! It's killing too many of us!" Grenadier Klaus snarled, confirming Klaus's suspicions.

Klaus was no marksmen. Marksmen and snipers were somewhat uncommon in the korps, for the simple reason that a sniper was not needed in the gruelling trenches. Snipers would prove useless against Basilisk crews that could not be seen, Manticores that were out of sight, and Valkyries that would be in the sky. He knew how to shoot a lasgun, and a bolter, but he was no sniper. Yet he knew that if this thing could be shot down, could be brought down to earth, then there was a chance. A chance, that he could see the morning tomorrow. It was a chance he had to take.

He gently lowered Amora to the ground, as he took out his bolter. He checked the clip, seeing that he had what few remnants of standard ammunition left. He shoved the clip back in, and pulled back the firing pin. He aimed the bolter at the mighty undead creature, as it was doing another loop.

A searing cold blast of ice was released from its maw, striking dozens of crusaders. They let out screams, as the freezing ice coated their skin to a level that they had been completely frozen. Those that would not die of hypothermia or frostbite would certainly be victim to the swarms of undead that enveloped these statues of ice, preparing to break them open like canned food.

Klaus steadied the bolter on his shoulder, trying to trace the joint of where its skeletal and bony wing met what membrane was left on its frame.

"Dear god emperor. Let me find my mark. I ask of you, beg of you, to give me this one blessing." He whispered, as he pulled the trigger. A burst of bolter rounds were released from the bolter. Three bolt rounds soared into the air, screaming towards their mark. Two missed entirely, while one merely struck its breastplate. The round exploded, shredding bone. It was barely a scratch.

The Frost Wyrm let out a mighty howl, it's unnerving gaze settling on the grenadier. Lesser men would have thrown their weapons and ran for their pitiful lives. Klaus was no lesser man. In Fact, he felt emboldened and more confident. If the beast was to charge him, it would give him a better opportunity. Suddenly, he had an idea. A foolish, idiotic, and suicidal idea. But nevertheless, an idea.

"Hey you! Dragon!" He shouted, cupping his hands over his mouth to try and make sure the creature heard him. It appeared that it did, its hateful gaze peering at him.

"Hungry, aren't you?!" He yelled, as he turned around, and grabbed his belt, unfastening it temporarily. He then bent down, and pulled down his pants and underwear slightly, just enough to show his bare ass at the mighty dragon. It let out a roar of what appeared to be anger. A mindless slave it might be, but it apparently had enough consciousness to be insulted.

"Come and get it, you stupid piece of groxshit!" He shouted. To add to the effect of the insult, he shaked it from side to side slightly. Truly, was there no greater insult?

The Frost Wyrm let out an enraged shriek, as it flew back for just a bit, and plummeted forward. Klaus quickly shoved his pants back on, as he grabbed his bolter, and pointed it right at the joint of the wings. He let out a small prayer, and pulled the trigger.

Another burst of bolt rounds rocketed forward, letting out an ear piercing scream. The cloud of cordite and other chemicals seeped into his gasmask. Klaus did not care for this.

The bolt rounds smashed right into the creatures joint, ripping it to shreds. It let out an ear piercing scream, as it suddenly lost any form of balance. The leathery membrane of its wing and its skeletal remains fell apart, slamming into the ground, crushing dozens of undead with its remains, as it slowly fell to the ground. It barely kept itself into the air by the frantic flapping of its remaining wing. However it then let out a loud roar, as it prepared to crash down on the poor guardsmen.

Klaus's eyes widened slightly, now seeing that his folly would be his undoing. He fired another burst of bolt rounds, hoping to get some kind of damage into it. Klaus, did not see the looming shadow behind him.

Suddenly, he was shoved aside with such violent force that he was sent at least ten feet aside, nearly getting knocked into a horde of zombies. It was only because of some sod who grabbed him by the neck and yanked him into a large ring of crusaders that he did not get swamped by a unliving tide of flesh.

Klaus glanced at what had saved him from the dragon, and his jaw dropped slightly.

"HA HA HA HA! GET SUM!" Bluddflagg screamed, as he leaped on top of the massive frost wyrm. It let out a scream of anger, thrashing around in the undead's ranks wildly. The ork let out a scream of joy, letting out an 'eehaw!' as he rode the dragon like it was an untimely bull. Klaus suddenly remembered that he had left Amora somewhere in the thick of the fighting, and burst his way out to get her.

He rushed back into the fray, smashing a zombie aside with his shield, as he scooped down, picking her up. He put her firmly over his shoulder, trying not to glance at the fact that her tabard did not exactly do the best job of covering her… considerable assets.

"Nice job abandoning me." She grumbled. Klaus blinked, before he grunted.

"Bitch later." Klaus snapped back, as he put away his bolter, grabbing his power sword from his sheathe, parrying a blow from a skeleton wielding a halberd. He leaned in, stabbing the skeleton right in the jaw with his sword, killing the creature. He sighed heavily, as he quickly walked back into the fighting circle. An orc and tauren made way for him, the tauren saving him from getting his head cut off by smashing a skeleton aside with a massive mace.

"Make way! Wounded coming through." He shouted, as he gently put Amora down. She still had a extremely tight grasp on her daggers. This slightly pleased him. It was nice to see that she was keeping her equipment in shape. Or at least, on her person.

Klaus glanced back up, seeing the absolute devastation Bluddflagg was wreaking.

He wildly was steering the thing, with the few chains that were wrapped around its neck. It roared in anger, while Bluddflagg steered the creature wildly, trying to control it somewhat. The beast was not having it though, as it desperately flung around, trying to get the warboss off of him. The Foul Dragon ran through the undead ranks like a wheelbarrow carrying corpses. Hundreds of zombies, ghouls, skeletons, and other creatures were stomped and squashed by the mad tirade of the Frost Wyrm.

It was pretty clear that Bluddflagg was having the absolute time of his life. Klaus however, was not.

"Someone get a medic." He shouted aloud. The Magic Users closest to him glanced at him.

"What's that?" He asked. Klaus let out a groan, slamming his head into his palm.

"For fucks sake, do your voodoo juju and fix this woman up already!" He snapped.

/

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!" Bluddflagg screamed aloud, holding on to the mighty dragon for his dear life.

The dragon below let out an angry screech, as it tried to desperately fling the ork off its back. However, this wasn't the first time Bluddflagg had rode such monstrous creatures.

Back on his homeworld, of which he could not remember, the Snake Bites were a prominent clan there. As so, there were plenty of squiggoths to go around. Such so, that one day, a Runtherd came up with the idea of 'Squigeos'.

The premise was rather simple. Ride the Squiggoth for as long as you could. Of course, survival was rather small for obvious reasons. Bluddflagg had rode many Squiggoths, and lived to tell the tale. Those that nicked him only added to his social ranking, a new array of scars and stitches to show off to the ladz.

Bluddflagg was 'steering' the creature by moving its neck with his Powa Klaw, targeting the ball that connected its neck to the rest of its body.

"CMON, CMON YA GIT! KILL, KILL, KILL!" He snarled, as he began to slowly crush its neck. It let out a scream, as it released a blast of ice at the undead horde that surrounded the dragon.

Hundreds of zombies, skeletons, ghouls and other undead creatures were obliterated in an instant, most being gibbed by the sheer force of the ice beam, while others were simply frozen solid.

"HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Bluddflagg screamed, as finally, the mighty beast managed to get him loose. He lost his grip, as he slid off the dragons back, clawing fruitlessly at its spine. Its bony tail whipped around, snatching the ork by the torso.

"Uh oh." Bluddflagg mewled, before the dragon let out a roar, as it wildly swung the ork around, slamming him into the tides of undead all around.

Hundreds of zombies and skeletons were slaughtered, the sheer force of the dragon's tail and the weight of Bluddflagg crushing them into paste. Luckily, their soft and frail bodies proved to be an effective barrier to protect the ork from turning into jam on the ground himself.

The dragon stopped slamming him into the ground, as it raised him right up to its face, and let out an insidious roar, as with all of its necromantic strength, it threw him away.

The ork let out a scream, as he was thrown nearly half a mile away from the fight, his scream fading away into the storm.

/

Klaus looked up, seeing the distant figure of Bluddflagg being hurled away. Klaus snarled in anger.

"Bluddflagg!" He shouted in anger and rage, blood pumping into his veins. A cocktail of rage, sadness and anger filled him, as he nearly threw himself out of the defensive circle of crusaders at the foe. However, Amora stopped him.

"No! He wouldn't want you to throw your life away like that!" Amora shouted, grabbing his shoulder fiercely. He glanced down at the elf, taking her words into consideration. He then snarled in anger. He hated that vile greenskin. He should be happy that putrid green mushroom was dead. However, he felt nothing but rage and anger. He wanted to avenge his Kameradan, and if that meant he paid the ultimate price… then there was no issue with that.

"Just try and stop me." He snarled. The blood elf looked at him hard.

"I cant stop you. But i'm trying." She pleaded. Klaus glanced down at her, his voice softening a little bit.

"Your wounds have been tended too?" He asked. She paused, and nodded.

"Good. Because you might have to drag me back in." He growled, as he pulled out his bolter, pulling out the clip to check his ammunition. A fair amount. He shoved it back in, as he began to barrel towards the thin outer line.

"Dear god emperor of man. Hear my prayer. Hear my call." He began, as he started to unload shot after shot into the horde. Each bolter round was carefully placed, targeting the head and neck area of the undead creatures. Amputations weren't good enough to put down these sorry bastards, but a exploding warhead to the head certainly was.

"I pray to you this day, to help me stand fast. I pray to you to grant me the strength to carry on." Klaus grumbled. A ghoul recoiled, its lower jaw now missing. A pair of zombies let out a hiss, as each one of them were separately blown to pieces.

A roaring abomination let out a squeal of joy, tossing aside a bisected orc, as it barreled forward right at him. Klaus didn't even budge, as he fired shot after shot into its upper area. One shot hit the base of its neck, spraying him with a shower of blood. It let out a groan, as it lurched backwards, grabbing its now ruined neck with both hands. Klaus fired another trio of shots right into its now exposed head, killing the beast in seconds. God emperor knows how many men this thing had already felled. Its body fell to the ground, a great gout of blood splashing his midsection.

"I pray to you this day, to give me the will, the endurance to withstand this trial. This trial of my morals, of my will, and my skills." He added on, shooting down another leaping ghoul. A skeleton closed the distance, and he pulled the trigger. A click. He growled, as he simply smashed it with the butt of his bolter. It let out a dry hiss, only to be cut down by the warrior next to him.

Suddenly their was a loud roaring. Klaus glanced in the direction, and cursed heavily.

The wounded Frost Wyrm had returned. It let out a howl, as it slowly marched forward. Klaus couldn't help but notice who it was heading towards.

"Ah shit." Grenadier Klaus grumbled quietly, as the frost dragon marched towards him. It let out an ethereal howl, and even from this far away, Klaus could feel its unholy chill in his very core. He pointed his bolter towards the creature, and began to open fire. He pulled the trigger again and again, trying to pinpoint his shots. However, the creature had learned. The very way it walked was troublesome to catch, as its body swayed from side to side, propping itself into uncomfortable angles that would have been extremely hard to hit, let alone kill. He put away hi bolter, cursing this cruel fate quietly, as he then pulled out his plasma pistol and sword. He did a flourish, as he prepared himself for his failure. For his death.

The dragon let out a howl, as it was about to smash Klaus, when it paused. It seemed like the entire horde of undead had frozen for at least half a minute, allowing wounded crusaders to be yanked back into safety, and to get some free kills.

The Frost Wyrm let out a insidious howl, as it suddenly turned and fled. Thousands of undead followed its wake, while others simply stopped doing anything, their frenzied actions pausing. This left Klaus very confused. Why were the undead peeling off now? They could have easily wiped the crusaders out now. Why… stop?

This led to a chainreaction. With many of the undead retreating, this inspired within the crusaders a fighting frenzy that Klaus could not have expected. It was the like The Blood God itself had blessed the crusaders with his unholy touch, as they literally threw themselves at the undead horde, slicing and cutting and killing with such ferocity that he couldn't fathom. With this, the Crusaders were given a chance. A chance to make it out alive. They wouldn't squander it.

/

Tirion felt the shift in the unescapable tide of undead. It was both a physical one and a mental one. He could see and hear the thousands of undead simply… leave. The zombie that was about to rip out a dwarves throat with its mutated claws simply stood up and left him alone. A ghoul, who was busy feasting on a taurens corpse looked up, its gaping maw splattered with blood and and organs. It left the corpse and quickly hopped away, using its elongated muscular legs to propel itself forward.

A hulking abomination, who was holding a struggling pair of humans in its hands let out a dumb laugh, trying to make them 'kiss' by smacking them together. Suddenly it stopped, and simply dropped them. It then bent down, snatching its massive meat cleaver, and waddled away. Such an effect was multiplied in the thousands, as many of the undead host simply took their things and left.

Even the ones who had been recently raised, ones who still had sword and arrow and gunshot wounds, blood and organs pooling out of their ruined bodies just left. Their eyes blinked open, and tried to keep the dark magical ichor that propelled their bodies to further extents of violence, as they walked away. Those who did not walk away were frozen in place, almost as if enlocked in a magical spell. Crusaders who had been wounded or were about to die let out loud prayers of relief, as they quickly retreated back into the large circle formation of crusaders, to be healed and patched up by shamans and priests. This went on for a full minute, as the crusaders, emboldened by their opponents lapse of weakness and judgement barraged forward. Ghouls were cut down, Zombies were slashed to pieces, Skeletons were disassembled, and what few undead monstrosities that were in the army were shot down with gunpowder and arrows.

Suddenly, the time frozen undead went back to work. A singular, loud and bone chilling howl was released from their bloody and rotten mouths, as they threw themselves back at the crusaders. Dozens were cut down in just those few seconds. Undead let out pitiful howls of anguish and anger, as they had been skewered on polearms, impaled by swords, cleaved apart by axes, and smashed asunder by hammers.

Tirion swung his mighty sword, The Ashbringer. It cleaved a skeleton that simply threw itself onto him in twain, reducing it into two doubled pieces. Tirion didn't even have time to look away before necromantic magic simply reanimated it. The skeleton arose, dark green magic pulling the insidious creature together again. It let out a howl, only for it to be cut down again.

In his many battles with the Scourge, he knew that this meant one thing. The undead never retreated or pulled away their forces. Unless…

Tirion slowly dawned on what this meant. The undead had outnumbered them, ten to one. The only reason they would fall back would be that… they were dealing with a greater threat. A grim smile formed on his face, as he went back to work, inspiring the crusaders around him with his ferocity in melee. Reinforcements had to be coming. If he prayed, he would live to see the end of the day.

/

The screaming warboss slammed into the frozen lake, breaking the ice instantly. He let out a loud groan, as he quickly pulled himself out of the freezing water, pulling out the massive shards of ice that had been embedded in his skin. He yanked out these shards with disdain, throwing the now red icicles aside. He let out a deep breath, before he smirked to himself.

"Dat. Wuz. Awesum." He said, grinning like a madman. He shook his coat of any excess water, before he noticed something. A tiny red dot, on his boot. This red dot quickly traveled up his leg and over his chest, before it went right over his forehead. Bluddflagg's eyes widened slightly.

"Zog…" He grumbled. Suddenly, the dot flicked off, as he heard a pair of running footsteps. He turned around, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Twig?" He asked in surprise.

"Bluddflagg! What are you doing here? What happened to you, why are you bleeding everywhere- why are you smiling?" She asked frantically. Bluddflagg looked over the eldar git for a few moments. He wiped his back of blood, and flicked it off, completely forgetting about the debacle that just happened.

"I culd ask ya da same fing." He grumbled. She rubbed her face, clearly frustrated.

"It's… complicated, just listen." She sighed. Bluddflagg didn't want to listen, he wanted to get back in the fight, but it was clear that for now, he was out of it. So, he had to get back in it.

"Roight, lets have dis discussion lata. I wanna get back ta killing." He growled, suddenly sad that he had lost his big choppa to that zoggin dragon.

"Bluddflagg, you can't! You're hurt, badly." Lofn said, pleading with him.

"Nup! I dunt wanna hear it!" He said as he walked away, only for him to fall down to the ground, his legs suddenly twisted 180 degrees the wrong way.

"GORKDAMMITBLEEDINZOGGINNAFFDINK!" He screamed aloud in frustration, grabbing his now useless legs. He snarled in anger, as he began to try and crawl towards where the fighting should be.

"Bluddflagg. Please, stop." She sighed.

"Zog off ya coward! Yer da twat dat dont even wanna get in da foight. Yer stupid humie friend is gunna get torn apart, and yoo aint gonna do anyfing bout it." He snarled in anger. Lofn was silent, stunned slightly by his words.

"Dats wot ya are Lofn. Loike da rest of yer kind. A bleedin, zoggin, coward. A lil grot, who's too far up her own arse too see wots she's become." He growled. He looked at her again for a few moments, before he snorted.

"Dats wut I thought. So now, either help get back into da foight, er zog off." He grumbled. Lofn was silent, before she responded.

"Alright. Lets… lets get you there." She grumbled. Bluddflagg smirked mentally, as he grabbed his legs, and began to twist them back into position.


	76. Chapter 75: The Last Stand (Pt 3)

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

Sorry that this one is short. I was feeling pretty sick today, so I kind of cut this short.

Hope you guys can understand.

Anyways, hope you enjoy.

In the heat of battle and war, it is not uncommon for champions to seek one another. While the uneducated plebs and mobs of untrained or unskilled soldiers threw themselves onto each other's blades, the educated, the rich, and the powerful would seek out competition worth their time. Blades would clash, and armor would clang.

Sualk had faced several champions in his career. Tyranid Hive Tyrants. Necron Lords, Ork Mongols, and far more importantly, Lupercalian generals or space marines. They all proved to certainly be challenging. Hence his extreme, extreme disappointment at what he was facing right now.

This so called, Death Knight, was horrendously outclassed. Sualk could not understand its ramblings, and Aetozar was currently enjoying the bloodshed too much to translate its pathetic and uneducated tongue. However, it was rather simple to say that this death knight was certainly disappointing. He had encountered champions of khorne who were more intelligent than this bumbling buffoon. Every swipe was so slow that he could have cut his nails by the time his blade even came close to him. Every parry was so horrendously ugly that it hurt his eyes to behold such a spectacle. It was like giving a child a chainaxe, and told him to rush down a Ork Nob. The result was disappointing, and bloody.

He sighed in disappointment, as he dodged a clumsy blow that if he didn't have two neurons, would have cut off his arm. To taunt his opponent, he dodged another blow, and sheathed the black blade, deciding to challenge himself slightly, and use his fists.

" _What are you doing you fool?!"_ Aetozar growled in anger, furious that his bloodbath had been so rudely interrupted by his masters arrogance. Sualk dodged another swing of the undead creatures sword, and snatched it from its grasp. It let out a growl, as it ferociously charged forward. Sualk sighed in disappointment, as he merely swiped its heavy two handed sword with such velocity that it cut through the knights armor with very little trouble. He yanked it out, as he then snatched it by the neck, and proceeded to rip its head off. It was pulled off with very little trouble. Sualk let out a heavy sigh, as he proceeded to crush it in seconds. It exploded like a grenade, covering him with gore and brain matter. With distaste, he wiped off any bone chips and greymatter off of his uniform. He looked at the sword, and held it up, looking at the runes closely. He let out an 'eh' and simply broke the thing over his knee like a stick. The cursed and jagged metal shattered, washing over him like a thousand razors. He paid no attention to the bleeding mess that was his leg, as the nurgle flies quickly addressed such an issue.

" _Wield me again! I demand it!_ " Aetozar snarled in anger. The greater daemon of chaos clearly wanted to fulfill himself in a blaze of glory. However, Sualk simply wasn't feeling it.

He was at first excited to face what this realm could offer. This death knight left a sour taste in his mouth. Hopefully, a death knight was the least this realm could offer, otherwise he might as well just scour it from the planes of reality itself if it couldn't even make him sweat.

His sole hope was that his imposter, Klaus, proved to be a fight. He wouldn't kill him, of course. Well, not yet anyways.

He then noticed that dozens of undead creatures and minions were heading towards him. He reached over his back, taking off the volkite weapon. It was a Volkite Charger. It felt familiar in his grasp. Though Volkite were speciality weapons, regulated as such such as warp guns or plasma rifles, he had wielded such weaponry with ease. He pointed it towards the horde of undead, and pulled the trigger.

A hot pulsating load of thermal energy was shot forward, striking a zombie right in the chest. The resulting heat made it explode into a gory fountain of body parts and fire. Sualk chuckled lightly, watching as the fire caught on. Soon, hundreds of the undead were coated with the flame. Their rotten and decayed flesh provided the perfect fuel for the thermal fire to consume them all. This provided a small, small amount of amusement, though it quickly lead to sadness.

Sualk was the first one in his realm to experience the magic of dimensional travel. And he walked into such a large flaming pile of crap that it soured his mood. He hoped for new challenges and new experiences. Not just… this.

One thing that provided him with a bit of interest is the fact that humanity lived on this world. This proved interesting for a vast swathe of reasons. Barbaric as they might be compared to the glory of the dark imperium, it was still worth note. Perhaps the glory of humanity truly did extend out of the his universe. This could open up a slew of possibilities to expand, and earn even more favor of the dark gods. A win win scenario, to be sure.

As he continually sprayed the hordes of undead with the charger, his mind went back to the spellbooks in his bag. He glanced over his back, nudging away his kai gun, as he temporarily stopped firing into the now blazing horde. He kneeled down, reaching into his sack, pulling out several of the tomes. Perhaps not the best time to do this, but they had an uphill advantage, and a fearsome firing line, so he felt that he was adequately protected.

He browsed through the collection. Judging by the warp encrusted runes and scrawlings on the spine of each tome, they were all books penned in the Language of Sorcerers. Being raised by a Sorcerer Lord of course, he knew everything that was penned within, and he knew them well.

He decided to show his power to these chaos space marines. To earn their favor, and to become their master. Of course, he still had to deal with that horror… but that would come later. He opened up a tome of daemonology, skimming through the pages quickly.

Tugan, his father, had many connections to the warp. From the Soul of Forges to the Planet of Sorcerers, these connections ran deep, and had meaning. The measures of a mortal can be judged based on how many connections they had to the warp and its denizens. Of course, most of these denizens were weren't worth a glance, and those that aligned themselves to the enslaved gods weren't much better either. Certainly, there was risk. He knew that the warp was connected to this world, but even a pitiful sorcerer worth his salt could tell that the warp here was deeply unpowered. This of course, led to the fact that using the warp was far more straining on him then it should have been. So rather than try to summon the tens of thousands of lesser daemons that were branded under his fathers; and to an extent, his own name, he could just start off with the more powerful creatures. Sure, it would be more deadly and dangerous, but it would be more bang for his buck.

He smirked slightly, as he stopped at a page, detailing all the favors owed to him from the vile creatures and beasts who worked in the Forge of Souls. Cighal Enderborn. Cighal was the most powerful daemon that he owned himself, and it had been awhile since he had took it out for a spin.

" _You wouldn't dare…_ " Aetozar hissed, a deadly threat in his insidious whisper. He glanced at the black blade, and smirked.

"Why would I settle for less?" He asked, as he began to whisper the foul daemon tongue, using the black blade as a medium to channel his power.

"When I can go for more?!" He said, his voice straining with agony and suffering. His own life force was being drained at a considerable rate, his skin shriveling up and wrinkling, tearing at certain spots of his body. His eyes paled for a few moments, as a massive rift in real space itself was opened. His gift of mutation quickly fixed his frail and withered skin, mutating it into a more youthful and young appearance.

"I call upon you, Cilghal Enderborn! You will come to me, my minion! My slave! You will repay the debts brought upon your creation, or you will die!" He howled, as finally, he heard a thunderous scream. It echoed throughout the lands, being heard for miles away. A smug grin formed on his face, while Aetozar merely sighed in disappointment.

Cilghal Enderborn let out a scream, as it slammed itself onto the hill, causing a small avalanche of snow to fall upon the hapless hordes of undead, smothering at least a couple of dozen in several feet of snow. Sualk was even more smug at the looks of wonder of the chaos space marines that watched in wonder. It seemed that his rather small scheme worked. Just, as, planned. The warp rift behind the daemon engine closed, and with that, Sualk approached his minion.

He approached the Heldrake with confidence. Its insidious fiery orange eyes peered right into his soul. A baleful and withering gaze was all he gave in return. It lowered its warpforged wing to the ground, allowing him the rite of passage. He grinned wildly, as he quickly ran up to its wing, and settled himself on the base of its neck. Some Heldrakes were designed differently than others. While there were variations of designs and purposes, they all looked the same. They looked like dragons from ancient human mythology, though he was rather sure that ancient dragons did not have Baleflamers or sharp claws that could rip apart aircraft with pathetic ease.

Cilghal was rather small for a Heldrake, only being 20 feet long from wing to wing, and this was designed for a single purpose. For riding. Dangerous and reckless. Only the most wealthiest and noble of lords could even hope to ride a Heldrake like Cighal, and even then most wouldn't do it. From his experience, it was better than sex. However, that depended on who you asked, anyways.

Sualk settled himself on Cighal's neck, grasping the warp chain that was lodged within its mouth. He could feel splinters of steel and warp metal digging into his palms, signalling that he was ready to go. The bond had been solidified, and with this… it could begin.

"Ride! To slaughter!" he roared in delight, shaking the chain. Cighal let out a roar, as its mighty claws dug into the earth, and propelled itself into the air. A surge of wind and smoke hit him right in the gasmask, as he held on for dear life.

Cighal let out a mighty gout of warpflame. The Baleflamer released this torrent of superheated red and blue flame, striking the army of undead beneath him. In seconds, nearly a quarter of the army had been reduced to nothing but a swathe of cinders, the warpflame utterly annihilating their pathetic forms. Khorne's lust for blood had taken over the guardsmen mind temporarily, as he raised his sword, pointing to the largest creature in sight. It was a towering creature of flesh, nearly thirty feet tall. Sualk grinned slightly, as he grasped the chain harder, and steered the Heldrake towards the behemoth. Like it needed any guidance…

The Heldrake smashed into the massive flesh behemoth, knocking it down to the ground. The flesh giant let out a loud roar, trying to batter away the Heldrake with its large meaty paws. However, the Heldrake was far too powerful to be defeated by a simple creature of flesh and bone. Ripping the upper layers of skin and fat from its backside, the Heldrake forced the giants head to the ground, crushing the bone of its skull.

Sualk smirked slightly.

"End it." He demanded. Cighal obeyed, by releasing a mighty puff of flame from its baleflamer. The giant's angry screeches were quickly rendered obsolete, as it's head was entirely consumed by the warpfire. It quickly spread down to its body, as its skull had already been reduced to nothing but ash and cinder. Cighal released its claws from its now horribly burned body, turning its fiery eyes upon what was left of the creatures.

They were falling back, trying to run, or at least as fast as they could. Sualk smirked slightly. This was good. Now, it was time to find his rival. Now, it was time to capture Klaus.

/

Klaus was busy helping someone stitch their wounds when he heard a loud roar. He looked up in shock. He heard that before. It was indistinguishable, and it was a sound that sent a feeling of dread down his spine.

He finished up his work, before he gave the signal to the shaman next to him to begin the healing ritual. He stood up, his eyes darting across the sky. He gripped his bolter with a deathly tight grasp, knowing full well that it would do practically nothing, if whatever creature out there is what he thought it was. Those still fighting on the outer perimeter took no attention to the sound, but those within certainly did. It was a sound of dread and horror, one that sent visible chills down peoples spine. He hoped that these so called psycannon rounds could put a scratch into the daemon. It was a small, glimmer of hope, but it was still hopeful regardless. Then, he saw it.

The screaming, metal monstrosity let out an echoing howl, as it plunged into view. Its ominous shadow was hidden well by the thin blizzard. Klaus could only see fine details. Razor sharp claws that could tear through Valkyries and Thunderhawks with ease. Massive wings made of some of the toughest metals around. Engines that spewed out unholy black and red smoke. A baleful orange gaze that was cast directly upon him. His eyes slowly widened in surprise, as he quickly took his bolter out, trying to trace the creature in the dark clouds above.

"What the hell is that thing?!" Someone screamed, as the Heldrake came down into view, hovering barely thirty feet above them. It let out a scream, as it quickly did a dive down, letting out a roar, as a pillar of flame erupted from its hellish maw. Hundreds of undead were roasted and cooked within seconds, a long line of warp fire being dragged through the undead horde.

"When was the last time we killed one of these things? Three, four years ago?" Grenadier Klaus asked offhandedly. Priest Klaus snorted.

"We are just lucky the lascannon missed, otherwise we would have been dead." He grumbled. They both paused, now seeing something that would Klaus remember for the rest of his life.

The Heldrake let out a screech, as it suddenly turned around, heading straight towards him. Klaus cursed aloud, as he took out his bolter, and started to fire at it. The bright blue energy wreathed bolt rounds were released from the barrel of the bolter, streaking towards the daemon engine. It let out a roar of anger, as it began to strafe the patterns of gun fire, twisting its wings and body to dodge the rounds. Klaus noticed something extremely peculiar. There was a rider. Last time he was paying attention, Heldrakes did not have riders. If they did, they probably were on the inside, though he didn't know that for a fact. He then froze, his eyes opening in surprise, horror, and shock. It was this lapse of judgement and thought that time itself froze for him.

On the daemon engines neck, was a man. Not just a man, but a guardsman. And not just a guardsman. Klaus could recognize the insignia on its chestplate. He could recognize the twisted parody that was its gasmask. But by far the most shocking thing was the man's face. It was… it was... Him.

It was a near perfect replica. Every facial feature on his face was a direct copy of his own, save for the cornea, which was a deep, blood red. He heard something. A scream, that was not his own.

Suddenly, he snapped back to reality, but by then, it was far too late. The Heldrake swooped down onto the ground, smashing into the ground a few feet away from the guardsmen. He had shaken himself out of his trance, and now opened fire. At this range, he couldn't possibly miss.

The psycannon rounds merely exploded on the surface of the daemon engine, only pissing it off. It let out a roar, and reared its head up to the sky, and released a great gout of warpflame. A towering pillar of black and red fire was released from its maw, dripping globules of warp stuff trickling down its neck and teeth like water.

Those who watched what had happened were dead silent, while the ones who were still fighting on the outside couldn't pay attention to the chaos machine.

Suddenly, the Heldrake leaned forward, hissing insidiously. It reared up, and propelled itself backwards. The powerful engines on the rear of the Heldrake let out a black cloud of smoke, as it returned into the air, and lunged forward with its claws. His eyes widened in surprise,

Klaus was too slow to dodge the attack. Rather than being horrifically mauled like he had expected, he was instead trapped within its steely claws. He snarled in anger, as he tried to reach for his power sword, only for him to growl in pain, the claws restricting him, clutching him hard enough to render him immobile and barely able to breath. He could feel his ribs breaking, the clutch of the daemon engine smothering his consciousness with its dark grasp. As his world began to darken, he only thought of one thing. How he failed.

/

Arthas Menethil, known to many others simply as The Lich King, frowned slightly at the development. He had hoped to wipe the Argent Crusaders off the face of Azeroth, but he was denied such a thing. Mentally, he belayed any more orders to attack. Sending out a command to his puppets, he forced them to pull back. The Scourge had taken many casualties, but he felt that this was not a loss. Especially, not compared to what he had up his sleeve.

He turned then, facing his second in command. Kel'Thuzad.

Kel'Thuzad was a lich, a collection of bones and golden armor, held together by a phylactery containing the necromancer's soul. He was once a high mage of the kirin tor, a master of the arcane. However, he treaded a dark path, heading towards the art of necromancy.

It was he, who had lead Arthas down a path of madness and darkness. He had planned from the very beginning for the young prince to become the master of the undead, the master of the scourge. Of course, back then they were still serving the burning legion. They had since earned their independence from the demons, and the lich had been at his side ever since.

"My king… I do not know if this is a good idea…" Kel'thuzad grumbled, his skeletal jaw opening itself for his raspy and ethereal voice to be released from within.

" **What could go wrong?** " The Lich King grumbled, looking at his advisor. He had to recall the lich from the plaguelands, because deep inside, Arthas knew that the end was coming, and that he would have to push it back. He had ordered a recall of the most important undead and mortal servants under his command.

"Many things. This… man, was able to control you at least for half a month. What would stop him from doing so again?" Kel'thuzad asked, as they looked upon the lifeless corpse of Ahriman, The Black Sorcerer.

His heavily armored body was limp and lifeless, suspended in the air by many chains. They were in the Plagueworks, a laboratory dedicated to the creation of potions, elixirs, and the Plague of Undeath itself. Abominations, Plague Dogs, and Flesh Giants were also stitched together here. However, it was nearly abandoned today. Very few were working at the moment. Of course, Professor Putricide was hard at work, but that was away from thought and mind.

" **Such a thing will not happen again.** " The Lich King growled, reminded of such an event.

" **He is powerful, lich. If this works, he will be a fine addition to our army.** " He added on. The Archlich looked back at the body, before at the phylactery that was in his hand. It contained the extremely powerful soul of the sorcerer. So powerful it was that the phylactery constantly radiated a light purple energy and shook uncontrollably from time to time.

"And if it doesn't… what then?" Kel'thuzad asked cautiously.

" **Then destroy it.** " He grumbled, before he walked away, leaving the Archlich to ponder to himself. He glanced at the phylactery, before at the lifeless suit of armor in front of him. The Lich pondered the situation for a moment, his empty, soulless (metaphorically speaking) eyes tracing the dormant armor. He then snorted.

"You have pleased my king. Lets see what makes you so special…" He growled, as he began the ritual.

/

Also, whoever made the waddle waddle joke in the review section, I legit hate you. You made me laugh for like a minute.


	77. Chapter 76: Within Enemy Territory

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

I would have made this chapter longer, but I was feeling a bit sick, so I made it shorter.

Also, I have a poll up on my profile regarding what I should do next.

I encourage you to go vote.

Like.

Please do.

(Seriously please do I have horrendous confidence issues if you don't go and vote I will enter a state of depression worse then the 20's)

Ahem.

Anyways, Enjoy!

Klaus woke up, a horrific stench wafting itself into his nose. He coughed violently, looking around. He was alive, but… what happened?

He noticed that he was tied to a large table, despite the fact that his uniform was in pristine condition. It had been washed, sewn back together, and even had a fruity fragrant smell on it. However, the room he was in was anything but.

Dead, dehydrated and exhumed bodies surrounded him on a massive altar. His eyes widened in surprise, suddenly realizing where he was. He was at a sacrificial altar. A chaos altar.

He then struggled against his bonds, trying to break them. He stopped, when he heard something, something he didn't expect. Music.

It was soft and gentle, yet disturbing in its own way. Klaus glanced in the direction of the sound, barring his teeth in rage.

The man he had saw before was sitting in a chair, softly strumming away at a wooden instrument. It was large, and shaped like a bottle, with a large hole in the center. Six strings were tied around several pegs, and were lengthened out to the tip of the instrument.

"It began, on a great, winter Eve." The man sung softly, expertly picking and plucking each and every string. The sound of the music echoed throughout the sacrificial chamber, the only light coming from dim torches. He could not see him entirely, but he saw important details. He could see the insignia of the Death Korps, a gasmask and skull, but it was horrifically ruined, a large star of chaos painted around it masterfully. Traces of red and black colored his uniform, a set of armored gloves plucking the strings to play the tune.

"She was the most beautiful girl around…" He continued, continuing to play. He leaned into the torchlight, revealing his pale and unblemished face. His bloody red eyes had a tint of sadness in them, telling from a single tear that was dripping down his face. He paid no attention to Klaus's furious glare, as he continued to play his music.

"We traveled the world from coast to coast… but I wish not to boast…" He continued, propping one of his feet up onto the table, putting it right next to Klaus's stomach.

"But then one day, one lonely sad little day, she just went away." He stated. The song was coming to an end, the music slowing to a crawl.

"So until eternity comes, I will pray for the one faithful day, in which she returns…" He sang, ending the song on a high note. He sighed to himself, putting the instrument away.

"Its an old tune. A tale of a lover lost, and the other left behind." The man explained. "A true story. Not mine, of course. I never really dabbled in that stuff." He added on. Klaus did not want to hear this cultist babble about his love experiences. He wanted to rip his head off of his shoulders.

Almost as if he was reading his mind, the man glared at him, and smirked. He began to pace around him, his boots echoing around the chamber.

"High aggression. A slight, yet noticeable regeneration factor. Faint possibilities of a powerful psyche. Unnerving beauty and faint scar tissue, regarding most injuries. You may just be one of us from the start, brother." He stated aloud. Klaus snarled in anger.

"Do not call me your brother scum. What the hell are you, daemon?" He growled in anger. The man paused, and chuckled, leaning in.

"Very well. You seek information, as I do." He said. To this, he did something that Klaus did not expect at all. He released him. Partially, at least.

He uncuffed Klaus's hands and chest from the table, doing it with very slow and careful movements, as not to aggravate him anymore. Klaus reacted immediately, by trying to grab his head and slam it into the table. However, before his hand could even move, it was caught by the man. He frowned slightly, looking at the grenadiers fist.

"Hm. Yes. Stronger than an average man for sure, though not by much." He grumbled, throwing Klaus's hand aside. He took a few steps back, just to make sure he couldn't get whacked again.

"Fight me you coward! If you wish to sacrifice me, then give me the dignity of a death in battle." Klaus demanded. The man sighed, leaning back on a wall, kicking aside a dried hand that was grabbing his feet.

"I certainly wish I could. However, my… superior…" He grumbled, putting an emphasis on 'superior'. "Would prefer you alive, for some reason." He added on. He then glanced at Klaus, and sighed.

"How rude of me. I haven't even introduced myself yet." He said, sounding legitimately disappointed in himself. He came forward, offering his hand.

"My name is Sualkite Arnear Ekagar. My friends call me Sualk, and as so, you may call me that." Sualk began, giving him a genuine smile. Not one of dominance or sadism, but a serious smile. This foul heretic was actually happy to see Klaus.

This threw him into a mental paradox. He had never met this heretic before, but clearly Sualk had. It took him a few seconds to realize that Sualk's name was his in reverse. Whoever thought up of that must have been… ' **VERY** '... clever. (Sarcasm)

Then Klaus realized something. If this… man, was supposed to be his opposite, his reverse, to say the least… then he couldn't have come from his timeline… right?

Klaus decided to kick the hornet's nest. Under a normal circumstance, this never, never, never, would have happened. But normal was left at the theoretical bus stop the second Klaus got on this ride. He had to listen to his ranting...

It was almost like Sualk was reading his mind, and he walked right into his trap.

"So, since I still have some time before our feast… let's have a talk. A discussion. What would you like to know?" Sualk asked, as he came closer, though not too close, sitting upon a small stone pillar, that had been stained with red. Klaus growled mentally, trying to reach into his pocket. Though his weapons had been taken away from him, he still had the knife in his pocket. Now it was just biding his time. To distract the heretic.

"Surprise me." He said, trying to not let the anger seep into his voice. Sualk smirked, and sighed lightly.

"Where to begin…" He grumbled.

/

My life began with a bloody beginning. I was always… different, as my father told me. I was not born like most children. While most came out rather clean and healthy, I was… something else really.

I never knew my mother. For I killed her on my way out. She died of complications from the birth. I was born malnourished, and thin. I was only four pounds, and was at least two months premature. I was never supposed to last more than a few hours.

But the dark gods saw something in me. The God Lord did as well, for I survived, and grew well.

My father died when I was three years old. He had been sent to the northern front of the Dark Imperium, to fight against the Empire of the Rising Sun. He had been killed in a duel with a Necron Warlord and a Tau Commander, taking both of them with him. I never… I never really knew him either.

I was an orphan then. But my Uncle adopted me. His name was Tugan Kyruse, one of the most powerful sorcerer lords on the Daemon World of Terra. He took me in. He saw great things for me, and he wanted me to live up to my father's legacy.

When I was four, he sent me to the daemon world of Krieg. A blasted hellscape, in which even the daemons of chaos could not survive on its surface. So foully corrupted and destroyed that even the denizens of the warp were forced to cower underneath its hellish surface… ironic, is it not?

It was here, that from the nameless waste of a child that I had been, would develop. Would change… would morph into the man I was.

The first thing I could ever remember… was pain. Agony… Though I didn't know it then, I was going under the ritual of possession. To become a member of the Death Korps, one had to go under the trial of possession. A daemon would be forced within a child, and the child had to survive for at least a month, using a variety of tools and tricks at their disposal. Wards, Spells, Deceit, Trickery. While the daemon would tear us apart, both psychically and physically, we had to try and keep it within us.

The first daemon they put within me was a Bloodletter, by the name of Sualkite. It took great joy in my suffering and agony. I had the last laugh, when it became one with me. Our essence merged into something greater. I had passed the ritual, and in honor of the daemons sacrifice, I took its true name, for I never had one. My new name was Sualk, and I had become one with the Death Korps.

The possessions that followed grew easier and easier. With every daemon I consumed, every daemon that merged with me only increased my power, my strength. Their was a bump, in the road however.

When I was six, I was challenged, by a greater daemon of undivided. He was a true warlord, owning a large swathe of planets, ruled underneath his tyrannical reign. He had heard of my accomplishments, and wanted to show his power. In truth, I didn't really know what he would get out of killing a six year old boy, but I didn't question it.

It challenged me to a game of regicide. If I won, then I would know his true name. If i lost, my soul would be his, to do so as it wished. We played. A battle of wits, skill, and luck.

Though I was powerful in mind, I was no match for the daemon. For every piece I took, it took three of mine. I was losing, badly. So, I did the only thing to save my skin. I cheated. So confident the daemon was, that it rarely even bothered to look at me. It instead focused on speaking of the horrendous torture it would do to me, to make me scream for the end, for every day of my non existent life I would beg, to beg for the suffering to end.

So when I was sure it wasn't looking, I slowly moved piece after piece into its territory. It didn't even pay attention, simply moving its pieces around the board without thought or reason. By the time it realized what had happened, it was too late. A deal was a deal, and I had known its true name. Which meant… I had all the power over it.

I took it back to my uncle, to propose a punishment. He took it to the Soul of Forges, where it was hammered into a daemon weapon. It lost much of its power, and its territory was lost. The daemon… cursed me. Every night that I would sleep, I would dream about my end. I cannot dream of nothing else. I am forced to watch my death over, and over again. With new details and different twists every night. Most of it was minor details. How long I was dying for, the time of day it happened, the weather outside… nothing groundbreaking.

However… there was one thing that interested me. Several months before I ended up here, I had a dream. Sleeping within my palace's walls and in my grand bed, I saw someone. My killer.

He looked just like me, but he was different in every way. His eyes were a different color. He did not serve the chaos gods, but rather someone else. At first, I thought he was a Lupercalia. But he had emblems that did not resemble the Luna Wolves, nor the ragged remains of the pathetic Solar Auxillia. Perhaps he was one of the traitors who had joined the Empire of the Rising Sun? He was not armed like one, no pulse blasters or miniature gauss flayers. Perhaps a slave, owned by the massive roaming hordes of the Ork Khans? He did not wear their armor, nor bare their savagery.

For hours upon hours, I tried to find out who it possibly could be. I spent days in my room, sketching out every possible angle, every possible being my killer could have been. A changeling? A tyranid clone? Some sort of creature, made in the dark biological foundries in the husk that was Ultramar? I never knew.

But I've met you now. To meet your killer is something that is found in bad romance novels. By now, we would have fucked and try to deny the thing that is destiny. Your lucky, for 1. I'm not that slaaneshi, and 2. I have a different offer for you…

/

Bluddflagg sniffed the air, as he was busy stapling his severed legs onto the stumps on his body.

"Da humie is klose. I can smell 'i'm." He growled, sniffing the air again like a squig. He had his scent, and it was close. He finally finished stapling his left leg back on, and put the stapler away. He waited for a few moments, and then moved his leg. It was working just as normal. That was nice.

He glanced back at Lofn, who had paled slightly. Her face was splattered with the orks blood, since he made her hold his severed legs while he waddled on his bloody stumps in the direction of Klaus. They had followed the Heldrake towards a rocky enclave, to which their was nothing. Obviously, something was down there, and the greenskin was going to find out what it was.

"Oi. Twig. Snap outta it." He growled, snapping his fingers. She was shook out of her trance, though she was still shaken. Bluddflagg frowned, glancing back at the enclave. Their was nothing their, shrouded by a thick grey fog. He smirked, glancing to his side, seeing a large pile of rocks. He reached over, and grabbed a large rock, the side of his head. He glanced back at the rocky range, and chucked it into the fog. The fog dispersed, and the ork had a clear view of the rock. It sailed through the fog, and landed on the ground, only for the fog to cover the hole. He observed this for a few moments, before he went back into cover.

"Dose sneaky gits. Dere usin weird shtuff ta hoide der camp." He grumbled. Lofn came over to his side, looking over his shoulder at the foggy camp below.

"You think he is in there?" She asked quietly. Bluddflagg nodded.

"Fer sure. But we gotta be all shneaky loike to save yer boyfriend." He grumbled. Lofn glanced at him, ignoring the boyfriend comment as best as she could, which in turn made Bluddflagg snicker in delight.

"How so?" She asked. To this, the ork merely grinned, reaching into his greatcoat, and pulled out a can of purple paint. He cracked it open, and stook his finger in it, taking a great swathe of the paint with it. He then smeared it all over Lofn's face, completely covering her in it. She spat out whatever of it was on her mouth, rubbing it off as best as she could.

"Don't touch da paint!" He snarled, as he began to coat himself with it as best as he could. She frowned in disgust, wiping her fingers of the paint in the snow. She probably was wondering where such paint came from, and she knew that it wasn't from a clean source.

"This is just barbaric…" She grumbled in distaste. Bluddflagg sighed.

"Yoo wuld neva last a day wiff da Kommandos." He grumbled. He finished painting himself, as he nudged Lofn behind him. He fixed his hat, and put it down low, just enough to cover his eyes.

"Stay behoind me. I know sneakin betta den yoo." He grumbled. It had been awhile since he had done this, but it was time. It was time to do some infultrashun.

/

"Frakk off." Klaus growled. Sualk sighed in disappointment, rubbing his temple in slight frustration.

Of course, he knew that if his doppleganger was part of any guardsmen core worth its salt, he knew he wouldn't have been able to enlighten him with a few words.

"I shall ask you a simple question." He said, pacing around slightly. He stopped, standing right in front of Klaus. He was trying to reach over to smack him in the jaw with his fist, but Sualk still had him bound to the altar at his feet and knees.

"Has your so called… god emperor…" Sualk said slowly, stopping suddenly. He then turned back to look at Klaus, a very serious look on his face.

"Has he ever given you anything, for your service?" He asked. Klaus was silent.

"Yes? No?" He asked quietly. Klaus didn't say anything. Sualk smirked slightly.

"You see, here is the flawed logic of your statement. You serve your god emperor. I understand. In the dark reality that is your world, something to believe in can provide moral support." He said. He paused then, glancing back at him.

"You serve your god emperor. You give him your favor, his protection, and your life, it it would come to it. But, what does he give you?" He asked. Klaus was silent, still giving him a powerful death stare. Sualk was pleased by this. At least he wasn't giving up easily.

"Does your god emperor provide you any boons for his service?" He asked. He then started to unbutton his greatcoat and uniform, revealing his bare pale chest, but more importantly, the four runes of the dark gods. Each one had their own little corner on his torso, the flesh that surrounded them dotted with dark lines of blood.

"Allow me to show you." He said, as he began to trace each one of the gods marks. Klaus looked on in disgust and anger, still fruitlessly trying to get the cuffs off of his legs.

"My services to the plague god have gifted me the gift of his pestilent fortitude. The bloated flies that feast off of his rotten flesh and innards are mine to command, mine to do with as I please." He explained, as the rune of nurgle let out a sickly green glow. The flesh on his hands began to rot away, swathes of his skin blackening and falling off with impunity. Hundreds of nurgles flies crawled their way out of his skin, a thick cloud of them forming in front of him.

They started to fly around, the monotonous sound of thousands of buzzing wings making a loud droning noise. He chuckled to himself, as he made them fly around and around Klaus, too far for him to swat away, but close enough to irk him.

Sualk wasn't prepared for what Klaus was about to do. So busy with his gloating, that Klaus lunged forward, shoving his combat knife right into Sualk's throat.

A bubble of blood splurted out of his mouth, while Klaus leaned into his ear, and whispered something.

"Go to your gods, and tell them you failed, scum." He growled, before he shoved his body away. Sualk teetered around for a few seconds, clumsily grasping the knife lodged in his neck, before his head slammed into the altar, and fell a foot away from where Klaus lay.

Sualk's body slammed into the ground, unmoving. At least, for a few moments. His body twitched, as the cloud of flies began to swarm his body. The sick sound of wet flesh forming together. Klaus slightly moved back in surprise, as Sualk slowly stood up.

"As I was saying…" He grumbled, rubbing at the faint scar that had formed on his neck, while the cloud of flies retreated back within his body, digging into his arms and hands. Sualk slowly put on his uniform, making sure the guardsmen had ample time to question what had just happened. He finished buttoning his uniform, and turned to look at him, only to smirk slightly.

"What gifts… what boons, has your god given you?" He questioned. Klaus snorted lightly, getting his carefree grin to disappear.

"I don't need gifts. I don't need payment. Only a petty, insecure wretch would need such a thing. That's the difference between you and me. I am a man. You're just a puppet, a thing of cloth and string, whose mere existence puts disgrace upon the uniform of a guardsmen. I'm saddened- no, ashamed, that I have to bear the name of the Death Korps, knowing that you're still alive." Klaus growled. Sualk's happy mood quickly dissolved away, his smug grin being replaced by an angry down curl of his lips.

"Is that what you think?" He growled, cracking his knuckles. Klaus didn't even skip a beat.

"That's now that I think. It's what I know." He retorted. Sualk growled in anger and rage and fury.

"Fine then. I was going to save you for later…" He grumbled, as he approached the dimly lit door of the chamber. He turned the lock, sealing the chamber shut. He then turned to Klaus, and cracked his knuckles.

"But you just pissed off the wrong man. And now you're going to regret that." He simply said, reaching into his belt, and pulling out the black blade.

/

Bluddflagg crept forward, one hand holding Lofn inside of his coat, while the other helped support him, as he slowly yet surely climbed down the steep slope, heading towards the deep crag.

"This coat smells disgusting! When was the last time you washed it?!" Lofn hissed quietly, trying to keep herself from gagging. It was difficult not to crush her, as her thin frame was so fragile that if Bluddflagg squeezed her just a bit too hard… she might just go SPLAT.

"When I got it. Now keep yer gob shut. Yoo bust da lid, and were skrood." Bluddflagg grumbled in reply. He slowly reached the edge of the mist, as he quickly took Lofn out of his coat, putting her down.

She tried to wipe the grime, sweat, and blood that had now coagulated on her robes, while the warboss approached the mist, and stuck his hand through. Nothing happened. He took a deep breath, and stuck his head through the fog. After a few moments, he retracted it.

"Looks loike sum sorta forcey field. Cept it dont force. It uh… erm…"

"Its camouflage. To hide the fortress from view… but why?" Lofn asked quietly. Bluddflagg glanced at her, and snorted.

"Yoo mean Kamoflage." He grumbled. Lofn carefully put her hand through the mist, and retracted it slightly. She clung onto her staff, fear palpable in the air. Bluddflagg glanced down at her, and gave her a bloodthirsty grin.

"Wot. Scared?" He asked. Lofn sighed heavily.

"Promise you won't tell him." She whispered. Bluddflagg raised an eyebrow.

"Yoo fink he wuld care?" He asked quietly. She glanced at him for a few moments.

"Yes."

"Lissen. I know yoo loike him, but dat doesn't mean yoo shuld let 'i'm control everfing ya do." Bluddflagg suggested.

"Its not like that." She said. Bluddflagg raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Is dat so? So why did ya kum ta me, asking fer me to help ya make him furgive ya?"

"Because I felt bad. I feel bad for what I did. I was acting foolish. I was desperate. Friendship was something I never had, and I didn't want to let it go." She admitted. Bluddflagg smirked, as he took a knee, looking her right in the eyes. They peered into each other, their eyes gazing into each others souls. Bluddflagg smirked, as with his one hand, he slowly put it up to her face, and wiped a tear from her eye.

"I believe ya. But nows not da toime ta be cryin. Weze gonna sneak in dere, and rescue Klaus. If we get caught, den weze gonna foight our way froo em." He stated.

"But… if we get caught, then we would die…" She mumbled. Bluddflagg chuckled.

"Den letz try not ta get caught." He grumbled. He then jerked his head towards the fog.

"Lissen. I need ya ta be quiet. I may be a bit rustee wiff sneakin 'round." He grumbled. She nodded, as she quietly accepted his green hand wrapping around her waist. He then lightly moved her underneath his coat, as he stalked towards the fog.

He crossed through it, glancing around. They were at the outskirts of the camp, and Bluddflagg quickly realized the layout. It was a common layout in ork camps. The weaklings and the runts lived in the outskirts of the camp.

Horribly deformed mutants, wounded beasts, and sick and dying creatures lived in these disgusting hovels. They didn't even sleep in tents or the like. Instead, they simply slept in slight indents in the ground, dug up with shovels and claws.

Bluddflagg quietly walked through these hovels. Most of these creatures were either fast asleep or too busy trying to keep themselves alive.

"By Isha… what happened to these things?" Lofn whispered quietly, Bluddflagg accidentally giving her a bit too much to view.

"Keep yer gob shut." Bluddflagg hissed back. His footsteps were somewhat muted by the fact he was stepping in a combination of rotten flesh, feces and mud. He glanced around, making sure nothing was looking at him.

"Dun wurry humie… weze on our way." He grumbled. He just hoped that he hadn't been killed yet...


	78. Chapter 77: The Dark Labyrinth

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

Here is the new chapter, as I promised.

Also, we got to 200 follows now yaaay.

Anyways, enjoy

The chamber door closed, leaving Klaus to tend to his injuries. He growled in anger and pain, rubbing at the dozens of scars that now were engraved into his skin. The one that made him the most furious (and concerned) was the star of chaos that had been carved into his arm. It was a foul and insidious rune, one that had been carved in the upper layers of his skin. Though it had no visible effect, he did not know for certain that nothing would come out of it.

For some reason, Sualk let him go. He had unbound the cufflinks on his ankles with a key. He then left the chamber, and shut the door. Klaus's whole plan was to get his doppleganger to kill him, rather than let his master get to him. He came close, but it was clear that Sualk didn't need too much time before he found out the guardsman's intentions. After that, it was just a waste of his time.

Klaus reacted rather quickly. He reached into his sheathe, and took out his knife, and began to cut into his own skin. He bit down on his lips to prevent him from growling and snarling in pain, as he continued to saw into his own flesh.

He was praying furiously, this unclean and hideous mark staining his body and his soul. He had tried to fight back with all he could, but Sualk was simply too strong.

Finally, with one last slice, the flap of skin that contained the foul mark was free. He took it, and chucked it away, glancing back at his arm, which was now bleeding profusely.

He started to cut into the cloak on the back of his uniform, trying to get a decent measure on how big it was. He then glanced back to where he was cutting. He jerked the knife outward, slicing the last of the fabric. He then began to wrap it around his bleeding left arm, not to mention everywhere else he was bleeding. He could already feel the effects of such blood loss, noting that his arm was paling significantly.

"Emperor damnit emperor damnit…" He grumbled, as he finished tying it, making it tight enough to try and staunch the blood flow.

He glanced around the chamber, stepping past the exhumed and decaying corpses around him. He had to find a way out.

He went over one of the torches in the room, breaking it from its holster. The unholy sulfuric stench wafted into his nose, as he headed towards the door. He felt it lightly, touching it.

It was a complex lock, a series of cylinders and complex shapes that led to a single circle in the center. The star of undivided.

Klaus looked at it some more, trying to figure out exactly to work the mechanism. He started by feeling around the lock, trying to trace each and every part of the lock. However, he quickly understood it, and hated himself for what he was going to do.

He glanced at the knife in his hand, and then back at the door's locking mechanism. There were four pads, one in each corner of the engraved section, that were covered with a thin paper. He sighed heavily to himself, trying to figure out if their was any other way out. Their wasn't.

The son of a bitch knew that he was going to try and break out. He knew that this would happen. He was playing with him at this point. Klaus would enjoy crushing his spinal cord with his bare hands.

He started to carve a shape into one of the locks. It was simple at first. A large triangle. However, he extended the sides of the triangle outwards, flattening them out after a few centimeters. He then drew another thick line through the extended limbs. It was the Mark of Khorne.

As he expected, the pad flashed a deep shade of red, a trickle of fresh blood dribbling down towards the center of the lock. The circle was a quarter of the way complete.

Klaus kept muttering a mix of curses towards the existence of his now most hated nemesis, while he continued to pray desperately, trying to redeem what little faith he still had in himself.

He followed it up by drawing the mark of nurgle. Three circles, two at the top, one at the bottom. He drew several arrows, each extending between the spaces of the circles. A green glow emanated from the pad, diseased and disgusting fluid dribbling down into the lock. Half of the circle was done.

Klaus already felt unclean. He wanted to tear this prison down, block by block. If he had any explosive charges on him, he would have gladly detonated them near the shrine, killing him in the process.

He hated the fact that he had been reduced to this. A rodent, being played around with a cat. He would find Sualk, and tear him piece by piece. If he came back, then he would do it all again. Then, he would burn everything in a two mile radius to ashes. It didn't matter anymore. He was not just furious. He was filled with such an unholy and indescribable rage and hatred that it didn't even feel natural anymore.

Klaus always knew that he had a bit of an anger problem. He didn't really pay too much attention to it, since no one exactly called him out on it. If anything, it gave him more purpose to charge headlong into the battle. He didn't just want to die for his sins. He wanted to make the foes of the Imperium pay for existing to begin with. However, it never got this bad. Never, in his life.

His hatred burned even harder, as he was forced to draw the final rune. The mark of Slaanesh. A delicate yet horrific smell came from the pad, as a the circle was finally completed. The liquid within started to drain into the center, turning it into a black sludge, one that filled each corner of the star. Klaus heard a lock turning, and the door slowly slid open.

In front of him, was a small pedestal, with a large book. Klaus took a breath from his heavy breathing and praying/cursing, noticing it. It seemed out of the way, almost as if someone expected him to take it.

He growled in anger, glancing around. Rational thought had long since forgotten, replaced with irrational anger and hatred.

"Is this some part of your sick game? Come out and fight coward, and allow me to put you down like the mangy mutt that you are!" He demanded. Their was nothing. No response, no noise, no nothing. The only thing that could be heard was the light sound of water dripping from the ceiling above, and his own breath.

The stench had only grown worse, as he slowly glanced around the room he had barged into. He was half expecting it to be a death trap. He was prepared for turrets to pop out of the corners, or a savage warbeast to reveal itself from the darkness. He was disappointed on that front. There was a clear exit, a simple hole in the wall that lead into pitch blackness.

Klaus glanced back at the book, letting his curiosity get the better of him. He slowly reached out with his hand, poking the edges of it. Its touch felt curiously warm, while the guardsmen forced himself to open it. He retracted instantly, suspecting some sort of trap. Their wasn't one.

His hand spasmed slightly, noticing a note within the first page. He leaned in to read the scrawlings, to hard to for him to see.

"For you." He slowly read. It appeared that Sualk had been preparing for this.

"Fine. I'll bite." He grumbled, as he took the book, and held it underneath his arm. The pedestal began to fade away, slowly disappearing into the ground. Klaus raised an eyebrow in confusion and suspicion, clenching the knife in his hand just a bit harder.

The pedestal reappeared, and his eyes opened wide in surprise. His weapons.

The power sword, gilded bolter, plasma pistol, and combat shield were lying there, along with his gasmask. They had been washed and cleaned and polished. The ammunition for both his pistol and bolter had been neatly sorted out and reorganized. Their was another note.

"Your weapons. You have nice gear." Klaus slowly read aloud, noting the tiny smiley face that had been written on the side. He growled in hatred, as he quickly began to equip himself again.

He shoved the book into his sack, and slung the bolter over his shoulder. Judging by the tight corridors, it wouldn't do too well. He carefully inserted a rod of plasma ammo into his pistol, and activated the power field on his sword. He tossed aside the torch, as he braved the darkness.

"I'm coming for you, you son of a bitch." Klaus growled in hatred, as he donned his mask once more. If he only knew what was ahead.

/

Sualk sipped a cup of tea, mildly enjoying himself. He had recently taken a bath, and was wearing nothing but a pair of grey pajamas. His black hair was ruffled and wet. He shook his head, sending dozens of droplets of water scattering around his personal quarters.

" _I have noticed something interesting._ " Aetozar reported. Sualk raised an eyebrow, glancing at the black blade, which was laying on a fine wooden desk. Something he had stolen from the Alliance Commander.

"That is?" He asked. Aetozar was quiet for a moment, before Sualk's vision was swamped with darkness.

" _It appears that the prey's friends have come for him…_ " The daemon grumbled. Sualk could see them. An ork khan, and… something else. She looked human, but he didn't remember humans having pointy ears like that. Perhaps a mutant of some kind. She did look pretty though. Sualk couldn't help but notice they were sneaking into the camp. He didn't care though.

He smirked then, leaning back on his chair.

"How interesting. An ork and a little girl coming to save a simple man." He grumbled.

" _You said yourself he is not a simple man. If so, why give him all of the special attention?_ " The daemon asked inquisitively. Sualk sighed.

"You wouldn't understand. You never would." He grumbled.

" _Do I sense… weakness?_ " Aetozar hissed in delight. Sualk gave the blade a nasty look.

"Silence wretch." Sualk growled. He glanced back at the vision that pooled in front of his eyes, before he snorted. He waved it away, black tendrils of energy fading into nothing.

"Though interesting, I have studies to do." He grumbled, glancing back at the many books and tomes. Mostly on sorcery and demonology, though the ones he was really interested in were the ones he 'stole' from the raid. Though he couldn't yet understand the texture, he could use the absorbed souls within the black blade to help in him the translation process.

He took another sip of his tea, sighing lightly. His toes curled at the edge of his seat, as he went over to his bed, and sat down on it.

While most others had nothing to sleep on, or had to resort with rocks and animal pelts, he got the best picks of the spoils. A bed. He let the other chaos space marines delve with the riches, plunders, and slaves. That wasn't his thing really.

" _It also appears that the prey has begun to travel higher up within the labyrinth."_ The daemon reported. Sualk smirked.

"Then let the games begin."

/

The blue sheen of his power sword and the yellow glimmer of his plasma pistol provided the only light sources within the chamber. His heartbeat, his panting, the sound of his feet, and the droplets of water from the roof above were the only sounds within.

Klaus had long run out of curses and swears to say, now only walking in near complete darkness.

"Shit. Wonder if we should have taken those night vision lenses all that time ago." Grenadier Klaus grumbled.

"It doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter." Klaus replied.

"Right. Now its finding that son of a bitch, and killing him." Grenadier Klaus proclaimed. Priest Klaus was far more skeptical.

"If we get out of here… then what? We must be within the clutches of the chaos forces. If we manage to escape, we'll just walk into another trap." He simply said. Klaus snorted.

"I am born to fight and die. I'll be happy to do both." He grumbled. He held up his sword, tapping the edges of the hall lightly. He was trying to find another hallway. Their was only way through.

"Do you think…" Klaus grumbled, as he paused. He glanced at his subconsciousness, before he sighed.

"Do you think they would come for us?" He asked lightly. Grenadier Klaus snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Please Klaus. Your childness is giving me a headache. Of course no one is coming for us. No one even knows where the frakk we are!" He shouted. Priest Klaus sighed heavily.

"Legion… might come for us-"

"Forget Legion. Forget everyone. The only person we can rely on, is us. That's it. Lofn isn't coming for us. Bluddflagg is dead. Legion disappeared a long time ago. None of our Kameraden are coming for us, nor do they have the strength too. The only person that can save us, is us. Now let's get moving. The more we stay here, the slimmer of a chance we have of getting us out." Grenadier Klaus snarled. Priest Klaus sighed heavily, while Klaus merely nodded.

"Alright then." He grumbled. He continued to walk forward through the hallway, slowly marching forward, waving his weapons around to provide him with a source of light.

Finally, he entered a expansive and large chamber. He finally had enough room to confidently stand at his full height, without fear of bumping his head on the roof. He slowly walked in, a faint light coming from the several torches and a large bonfire in the center of the room.

As he walked in, he heard noises from behind. He whipped around, pointing his plasma pistol at the source, only to lower it in confusion. The door behind him had closed. Next came the sounds of growling.

He prepared himself for combat, seeing his opponents. Ten mutants had emerged from small crooks and crannies within the room. Creatures that once resembled humans were now jibbering messes, most not even carrying weapons. Their razor sharp claws and oozing sores were weapons enough.

"Perhaps it's some sort of arena. Kill the enemies, proceed to the next challenge." Priest Klaus suggested as an answer. Grenadier Klaus snorted.

"Screw that. Lets just kill these vermin and move on!" He proclaimed aloud. Klaus couldn't agree more.

He didn't let the mutants get a chance. He immediately began to open fire with his pistol. Globule after globule of searing matter was released from the molten hot barrel, annihilating three of them. They shrieked and screamed, rolling around as their bodies dissolved into ashes.

The first mutants closed into combat. He swung with his combat shield. The hardy metal plate, coated with the repulsor field sent the mutant stumbling back, its face now flattened to such a degree that even parts of its skull had caved in slightly.

A mutant lurched forward with a screech, swinging with a claw. Klaus dodged the blow by centimeters, getting a thin scratch on the armor on his shoulder. He retaliated by plunging his sword right into its throat, going right up into the upper parts of its skull. He yanked the sword out as fast as he could, accidentally ripping its head into two pieces. The fountain of gore was released from the ruins of its head splashed him right in the gasmask, blinding him. He quickly wiped it, only for him to get pinned to the ground. The snarling creature let out a howl, as it's mouth widened open, revealing a horrific mouthed monstrosity. A locust like creature forced itself out of its mouth, the creature letting out a silent scream. Klaus reacted instantly, by shoving his plasma pistol into the creature's mouth, and pulling the trigger.

This was an insanely stupid and suicidal idea. The plasma shot killed the mutant instantly, but then its searing cinders fell right on top of his uniform. He let out a growl of pain, as he quickly rolled himself as far away from the pile of ashes as he could.

A large hole had been burned on the bottom of his torso, right in the gap between where his armor and flesh was. The uniform had been burned into his own flesh, leaving a horrific scar the size of his palm on the left side of his body. Both his undershirt and uniform had been burned into his skin. He snarled in anger, as he slowly pulled himself up. He fired another shot from his pistol, quickly killing another mutant.

The last four creatures hissed aloud, as they began to surround the guardsman. He was tempted to fire away at them, but the glowing barrel and the hissing sound it was making convinced him otherwise. He put it on the ground, slowly pushing it away. He could imagine how furious it's machine spirit was. It didn't matter. Not now, at least.

"Come on you scum. Come and get it." He growled. He glanced back at the burn wound. That certainly was going to leave a scar. He pushed it out of mind.

The slavering maw of the mutants was clear, thick drips of saliva and mucus dripping from their maws. Klaus couldn't help but notice that two of them had some sort of body armor. Behind all of the flesh and muscle, was the tortured soul of a man or woman. He could imagine and feel their pain. They didn't deserve this. None of them did. It only gave him a better incentive to put them out of their misery. Hopefully… they could be free from their torment.

The first one let out a scream, and barged forward. Klaus reacted instantly, by giving a quick slash. A red line appeared on the bulk of its chest, and it let out a braying wail of pain, as it slid across the ground, slamming its head against the wall.

Another one approached, taking several lurching steps forward. It let out a snarl, brandishing a large axe that had melded into its hand. Fleshy tentacles and growths ensnared the weapon to it's masters grasp, as it attacked, swinging its axe. Klaus held up his power sword, as the axe's blade was cut off of its handle. The metal blade clang off of his carapace armor, falling to the ground. The mutant let out a screech, as it simply batted the guardsman aside with the stick. Its immense strength sent him sprawling back at least two meters, nearly sending him right into the bonfire. He quickly reached over his back, and grabbed his bolter. He opened fire.

The last standing mutant was blasted off of its feet, and was sent crawling away. Klaus fired another round, ending its mewling wails. A bolt shell landed on the tip of his boots, skittering away.

"Another horror killed." He growled. As he suspected, another door in the chamber began to open. He didn't necessarily have too much of a choice. He glanced down at the burn wound. He didn't bother to remove the cloth that had burned into his skin. It would only increase the already high chance of infection. As much as he didn't want too, he would have to leave it. For now…

He sighed to himself, wiping his gasmask of any more gore. He scooped up his plasma pistol, and holstered his bolter. He pressed forward. He didn't have any other option.

/

For millennia, the Eldar race knew peace. Of course, ever since their creation by the old ones, along with their savage 'cousins', the word 'peace' had a somewhat difficult definition. Though they dealt with the every now and then ork incursion, the eldar knew peace and prosperity for many a millenia. Of course, being the dominant race for millions of years led to arrogance. Arrogance, led to some… unlikeable traits.

By the 29th millennium, the eldar empire had become a far cry from what it had once become. Gone was a society led by the elegant eldar, instead replaced by a hedonistic and overtly sexual society. The ones who were both wise and smart enough to realize what they had become fled on merchant ships, now known as craft worlds. This was, a good idea, compared to the terrifying event that happened next.

The Eldar do not have any names for what happened. While many humans or mon-keigh have a variety of names for their so called… 'Horus Heresy', the Eldars only have one. The Fall. The Fall turned the Eldar from the once massive empire to the fledgling and desperate refugees they have become today.

Chaos always scared Lofn. Ever since she was a little child, her father told her stories of the horrors outside of the craftworld. He didn't sugarcoat what was out there. He went into brutal detail of what awaited her in the galaxy. He described every painful, slow death she could possibly imagine, and he did it without a smidgen of pity. She didn't understand why then. She did now.

So it was with great fear that she and Bluddflagg were sneaking through the camp. She was afraid, and Bluddflagg knew it. She had to control her breath, as the ork slowly walked forward, melding within the shadows. She had to admit, not only was the ork rather good at this, but it seemed rather impossible that they had not been caught yet. She counted at least three times that they should have been found. However, every time that happened, the minions of chaos simply glanced in their direction for a few moments, before they simply walked away, like they saw nothing.

"Told ya I wuz good at dis." Bluddflagg grumbled, his purple painted face glancing down at her. Lofn was trying to ignore the horrific stench within his coat. The inside of the fur and leather coat was stained with blood, and brown spots that she would prefer not to go near.

"Lets just try to find him already." She hissed. The ork froze, and slowly retreated back into the illuminating shadows, as a patrol of chaos space marines went past. The three chaos space marines were silently walking forward, bolters held loosely in their hand. Then one of them paused. Lofn gasped quietly, holding her hands over her mouth. Bluddflagg barred his teeth in anger, his powa klaw twitching.

One of the chaos space marines said something to the other. The one who paused then slowly walked towards them, while the other two walked away. Lofn slowly pointed at the chaos space marine with her staff, which she held in her hand. Finally, he got close enough. He quickly realized what was happening, but by then, it was too late.

Her eyes flared with psychic power, as the chaos space marine let out a groan. Though he was mentally powerful, he was not a match for her psychic powers. She slowly lured her in closer.

"Tell me where the prisoners are." She whispered within her mind, a delicate and soft voice echoing within the dark realm that was his brain. The chaos space marine let out a groan, dropping his bolter to the ground, clawing at his head.

"No…" He hissed in low gothic, trying to force her out of his head.

"Tell me." She growled, as he let out another groan of pain, falling down to his knees.

"They are within the sacrificial chambers. But you won't get there…" He growled aloud.

"Where is it…" She demanded. He let out another groan, falling to the ground. Bluddflagg let go of the farseer, as he slowly approached the chaos space marine, making sure the interrogation was out of sight.

"To the warp with you… eldar…" He hissed quietly. He then let out another groan, blood starting to drip out of his mouth grille.

"Wrong answer." She growled. Finally, he spoke.

"The chambers are near the shrines, by the center of the camp. The entrance is found within the cave." He growled. She released him, only for his head to get crushed into pulp by the warboss.

"He could be in their sacrificial chambers. Lets just hope he is still alive." She said hopefully. Bluddflagg gave her a sideways glanced, and smirked.

"Woi, so yoo can tap dat arse?" He asked quietly, chuckling darkly. Lofn sighed heavily, her cheeks blushing slightly.

"Shut up…" She grumbled. Bluddflagg scooped her up, and hid her within his coat, as he began to skulk forward once more.

/

"Come on Klaus, give it the good old one two!" Grenadier Klaus cheered, as Klaus swung with a massive left hook, knocking out several of the mutants teeth. The chittering creature stumbled backward, wiping its bleeding maw, before it lunged at him again, swinging with a mutated ball of bone. It smacked him right in the gut, knocking the breath out of him. He snarled in anger, as he grabbed the mutant by the folds of its neck, and brought it down upon his armored knee. The sound of bone cracking could be heard, as it swung at him again, sending him stumbling back. It then lunged forward, whacking him right in the jaw. He was sent sprawling to the ground. The mutant limped backwards, touching the ruined flesh that it was now its face. One of its four eyes had swollen hideously, allowing the rest of its black orbs to stare intensely at the guardsman. Meanwhile, he slowly pulled himself, and quickly took off his gasmask, only to spit out a broken tooth. He gently put it down, as he turned to face the mutant. He reached into his mouth, feeling that the top left canine was gone. He growled angrily, wiping the blood and foam that had gathered on his lips.

They stared at each other for at least ten seconds. Klaus's weapons had been scattered across this particular chamber, along with the bodies of at least a dozen mutants and several wolf like creatures. One of those things left a nasty bite on his thankfully armored shoulder, otherwise it would have simply ripped it off.

Finally, they charged. The mutant let out a foul scream, swinging its three limbs around frantically. Klaus let out a violent scream, as he tackled the mutant straight off of its feet. They both slammed into the ground, as Klaus began to beat the ever loving crap out of it. It retaliated, lurching forward and biting down hard on the flesh of his left arm. He let out a shout of pain, as he punched it so hard in the neck that it recoiled backwards, letting go of his limbs.

A savage rage had overtaken the guardsman, as without thought, he himself bit down on the loose flesh of its face. An angry howl turned into a painful screech, as with extreme force, he yanked back, literally ripping off some of its flesh with his own teeth. It let out a painful wail, flailing underneath the guardsman. He continued on, as he plunged his fingers into its remaining eyes, and began to push down hard. Gusts of black and dark red blood splashed his face, as he continued to press deeper and deeper. The mutant was still screaming. Klaus then started to pull outward. The sound of flesh tearing and bone breaking could be heard, as with one savage pull, Klaus literally ripped its head in half with his bare hands. A burst of blood splashed right into his mouth, making him choke. He vomited it up, along with whatever was left of its stomach, as he recoiled from the mutant's body. He quickly got off and pushed himself away from it as far as he could. He looked at his own hands in surprise and horror. The edges of his vision had turned crimson, and his hands were shaking. His breath grew heavy and staggered.

"Hey… buddy… you're like… at a ten, right now. Lower it down, to like… a four." Priest Klaus said quietly. Grenadier Klaus was speechless. The personality glanced at the ruined mutant corpse, before he whistled quietly.

"Damn." He whispered quietly. Klaus shook his hands of blood, flicking the lifeblood of the creature away onto the soiled and corrupted earth. Priest Klaus suddenly shook slightly.

"We have to get out of here. Now." He whispered.

"What is it?" Klaus asked quietly, as he rose up and began to collect his weapons, which were still scattered around the chamber.

"The longer we stay here, the more we risk the chance of corruption." Priest Klaus said quietly. Grenadier Klaus snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Please. No Korpsman has ever turn traitor. No Korpsman ever will." He grumbled. Priest Klaus gave him a hard stare.

"Willingly." He corrected. Grenadier Klaus froze, a dangerous look on his face.

"What?" He demanded, walking over Klaus's collarbone to get to the left side of his shoulder, where Priest Klaus stood.

"No Korpsman has ever willingly turned traitor. What if he didn't have a choice?" He asked. Grenadier Klaus scoffed, rolling his eyes underneath his mask.

"Your spewing nonsense." He grumbled.

"Think about it. Whoever the hell that guy is, he wants us to become like him. He should know that him being able to do it willingly would be impossible. So what if he allowed us to escape, only to be corrupted here in the first place?" Priest Klaus asked. None of them spoke for about five seconds.

"You mean…" Klaus mumbled.

"I mean that their is a chance, and a probability, that this prison, this… whatever it is, is twisting our very essence. I mean, look at what happened to that thing." Priest Klaus growled, pointing at the head of the mutant, the one that had been literally torn asunder, the one where flaps of skin had been bitten and ripped off. They were silent for a few minutes. Klaus glanced back at his hands, which were now tingling unwillfully.

"Let's get the hell out of here then." Klaus mumbled.

"Wait. What was in the book?" Priest Klaus asked. Grenadier Klaus rolled his eyes.

"Probably a bunch of mumbo jumbo groxshit. I don't even know why we took it in the first place." He grumbled.

"Perhaps, but I have a creeping suspicion that perhaps there might be directions inside." He suggested. Grenadier Klaus gave him a hard stare.

"What do you think is in that book? An ancient curse? Pornography?" He questioned. Priest Klaus sighed.

"No, but think about it. If Sualk got so insulted he decided to torture us over calling him a few names, he must be pretty arrogant. Perhaps he believes us to be so idiotic, that despite giving us an obvious clue, that we would not even bother to check it." He theorized. Grenadier Klaus rolled his eyes.

"I, an intellectual, believe that our new arch nemesis would just give us a hint of how to get out of the very prison we have been enslaved in." Grenadier Klaus said, mimicking Priest Klaus's voice, before he let out a snarky cackle. He leaned on the side of Klaus's chin, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Your such an idiot sometimes. He may be idiotic to serve the ruinous powers, but I doubt he's that arrogan-"

"He's right." Klaus said. Grenadier Klaus twitched.

"What?"

"Their is a maze up ahead. Sualk wrote the directions of how to get out, and into the upper layers of the labyrinth." Klaus said, raising the book slightly so Grenadier Klaus could get a better look. A very angry look crossed his face, as he glanced back at Priest Klaus. He could practically see his smug grin.

"Shut up." He grumbled.

/

Little AN here.

Why the fuck do people keep asking me questions about what Sylvanas is doing.

Like this is the thing I have been getting the most, for some reason.

Do you guys, like... like her, or something?

I mean, I got no problem with necrophilia but jeez.


	79. Chapter 78: The Great Escape (AN)

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

Here is the chapter. Sorry it took so long.

This is due to school starting. As so, uploads may take longer.

I also recently underwent surgery. This means that I will be miserable for like two weeks.

So I have an offer, for those who are willing.

(See bottom)

Klaus slowly entered the next chamber, his fast pace slowing to a crawl. His eyes boggled in surprise, a gust of air rushing out of his mouth.

"By the Emperor…" He whispered. His eyes were alight with pain and confusion, turning away and covering his eyes. He glanced back towards what he had seen.

In Front of him was one of the most confusing yet chaotic things he had ever seen. It was a large crystal maze, made of some material that was completely see through. Yet within the entrance of the maze were a blinding set of ever changing colors. He heard insidious whispers within, a spectrum of feelings tingling in his spine. Judging by what little information he knew about the ruinous powers, this thing had to be the bastard child of tzeentch and slaanesh. He had no other way to explain the sudden happiness and thrill that jolted in his system, simply looking at the abomination that was in front of him.

"Don't look if you have too. Don't look if you have too." Priest Klaus whispered, while Grenadier Klaus merely rolled his eyes.

"What a pussy. Alright, get ready." He grumbled. Klaus took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever was in the crystal maze.

"Walk forward." Grenadier Klaus said. Klaus took several cautious steps forward, keeping his hand firmly grasped on his sword. It was deathly quiet, the only sound being his footsteps and his breath. He took one final step forward, crossing into the maze. He regretted it almost immediately.

The most horrid, loud, and unexplainable noise filled his ears. He snarled in pain and agony, clutching his helmet like a vice, just to try and drown the noise out.

"Keep running, keep running you fool!" Grenadier and Priest Klaus screamed. Klaus got up and ran, the noise still droning into his ears. He blindly ran forward, only to slip and slide, and fall face first onto the floor.

Klaus was even more horrified to see what was happening to his body. His legs were quite literally melting into the air, his skin turning from a pale white to a shifting spectrum of yellow, blue, red, and green.

"What the frakk?" He said, his voice distorting into hundreds of different pitches, some not even humanly possible.

"It's just an illusion! Keep running, keep going!" They shouted. Klaus happily obliged, running as best as he could.

"¡ʞʞɐɹℲ ɥO" He moaned, as he finally made it to the end of the corridor. He glanced at Grenadier Klaus, who at this point had turned into an amoeba like creature.

"Shlleeft!" It gurgled. Klaus obeyed, by moving forward. He tripped, and fell to the ground. His form exploded into millions of perfect cubes, making him let out a groan of both pain and pleasure.

"GET UP, GET UP, GET UP!" A horribly mutated mass of flesh and limbs that was once Priest Klaus screamed. The millions of pieces that was Klaus formed back into a single large blob, that vomited out a new guardsman. The newly born guardsman slithered out of the rapidly fading cocoon, as it crawled forward, moving on all fours like an animal.

"oWev ʇ!¡!¡" Priest Klaus screamed. Klaus kept running. He didn't have a choice.

/

" _Why would you make me spend hours of my time to create a near impossible crystal maze, if you would give him directions on how to make it through?_ " Aetozar asked quietly, a sinister tone in its voice. Sualk smirked slightly, taking another sip of his tea.

"I just enjoy wasting your time." He smirked, as they both watched with curiosity as the guardsman tried to navigate the maze.

Crystal Mazes were popular attractions in the Dark Imperium. Many carnivals and fairs had these 'rides'. It was really meant for children, though sometimes teenagers would use it too. It was a tool to help inspire creation and provoke thought. Many a child had entered a crystal maze and left it enlightened, and smarter than they had entered. Of course, their were a few side effects, mainly being what actually happened on in the inside. Also, sometimes people would get loose within a dimensional vortex, but that was a very rare occurrence.

Sualk glanced back at his tea, taking another sip.

"Say, where are our explosive stores?" He asked quietly. The daemon was silent for a few moments.

" _What… what do you mean?_ " He asked. Sualk quietly tapped the edges of his cup, glancing back at the black blade, before looking at the pool of black energy in front of him.

"I'm just wondering."

" _By the weapons cache…_ " It replied. He smirked again, as he got up from his bed, putting his socks on. The daemon became very suspicious at that point.

" _What are you hiding… boy?_ " It demanded. Sualk didn't answer as he finished off his tea, and stood up. He began to tie on his new boots, noting that it needed a bit more fur inside to keep his toes warm. He would work on that.

" _Where are you going?!"_ Aetozar hissed. Sualk began to put on his uniform, fixing it to make sure their was no crinkles. He fixed his collar, and quickly put on his gasmask and helmet.

"I need to go take a smoke." He replied quickly, as he finished donning his gear. He left the daemon weapon where it was, lying in the corner of his room.

" _You don't smoke!"_ The daemon bellowed, but Sualk ignored him. He closed the door, and locked it, as he left his nice hut.

The harsh cold wind flew into his face, as he quickly marched towards the weapon camp. Mutants and creatures that had joined the warband instantly made way for him as he walked past them, while the much more important Chaos Space Marines gave him nods. It was something, better than what he had started with before. In order to enforce his ruthless brutality, he still had the severed head of the chosen space marine, left on a stake outside of where he slept. He had the nicest home, simply because he made an effort to make it so.

"You two." He barked, pointing straight at a pair of space marines who were chatting with each other. They glanced right at Sualk, before back at each other.

"Come with me." He demanded. They glanced at each other once more, before back at him. Sualk was about to gun them down with his kai gun, when they finally got up, and began to approach him.

"What is it that you seek, mortal?" One of them asked.

"I seek the weapons cache. Tell me it's location. Now." He demanded.

"The location is confiden-"

Sualk instantly took out his kai gun, and fired a shot right into the space marines head. The ball of seething hatred connected right into the gap of its mouth grille, literally burning its head to a crisp on the inside, bones quickly melting, followed by brain tissue. The armor' servo's locked up in a rigor mortis position, as it fell to the ground with a clang.

"You have anything else to say?" Sualk asked dangerously, peering right at the living space marine.

"By the entrance of the dungeon." It stated. Sualk holstered his bolter, glancing at his dead companion.

"Oh cheer up. You'll find another one." He said, as he quickly left the scene, heading straight toward the dungeons. He passed mutants, cultists, and space marines alike, all who gave him a puzzled look as he bolted past them.

/

With one final leap, Klaus made it out of the maze. He slammed into the ground, ripping his gasmask off with inputinous abbadon, violently puking for nearly thirty seconds. A nonstop stream of digested mush, stomach acids, and traces of blood poured out of his mouth, splattering the floor. He coughed violently, letting out a groan, partially collapsing on his own vomit. It splashed on him, getting blots of it on his frame. He lay there for nearly a minute, breathing in and out, trying to control the unexplainable pleasure.

"Uugggh…" He groaned, violently rubbing his head. It was enflamed in agonizing pain, and what he saw in there… he wasn't supposed to see.

Priest Klaus was busy making sure that all of his body parts were properly attached, while Grenadier Klaus was busy wiping his greatcoat of bile.

"Frakk. Frakkfrakkfrakk." Klaus moaned, slowly pulling himself up. He glanced at his greatcoat, which was now stained with a translucent green and yellow color. He kneaded his eyes with his knuckles, still seeing fragments of what he saw within the maze. He glanced at it from behind. The twisted and weird landscape that it was had now disappeared, reverting to its previous state as a simple maze. He almost felt a lure, slowly reeling him in. He had no idea why, but he wanted to go back in there again.

He forbade the thought, as he finally stood up. He coughed again, wiping his mouth of bile, as he fixed his gasmask. He took a few steps, only to sway to the side lightly. His head was still wracked with pains and pleasures, and it took a serious amount of effort just to make sure he didn't fall down to the ground again.

"Alright. Take a deep breath." He said to himself, inhaling a large amount of air. He then exhaled, as he glanced up. He could see it. He could see the exit.

A gleaming hole, on top of a massive ziggurat, a temple dedicated to the perverted glory of the ruinous powers. Scattered on the surface of this ziggurat, were dozens of mutants and daemons.

Something dark within Klaus bloomed, spreading its insidious and unholy roots within him. He saw it. Freedom. He had come so far, killed so many. He could not die here. He couldnt.

Yet… there were too many of them. In his weakened state, he knew that their was no way he could take them on. They realized this, as they slowly climbed down the massive staircase. They knew that he couldn't kill them all. They would feast on his flesh, tear apart his bodies, and defile anything that he viewed sacred.

Something… dark, burned inside of him. It billowed within the inner parts of his soul, taking its foul root within him. He growled in a newfound anger, his mouth turning into a furious frown. He took deep breaths, almost like an angry bull. He prepared his pistol and sword, and let out a roiling warcry.

"COME ON YOU SONS OF BITCHES! TASTE MY PLASMA! BITE MY SWORD! SHOW ME WHAT COUNTS FOR FURY AMONGST YOUR MISBEGOTTEN KIND!" He screamed in a berserker fury, as he barreled forward, uncontrollable in his actions.

The mutants paused. They had not expected their prey to be so… ferocious. This was a grave mistake.

Klaus fired a shot from a plasma pistol, hitting a chaos spawn in the kneecap. The ferocious creature let out a scream, as it collapsed to the ground. It looked up, and let out a roar, only for its ten eyes to open wide in surprise. Time slowed, as his sword dug into its skull, as with agility and grace that he could not perform normally, he quite literally flipped over the behemoth. His sword was dragged along with him, cutting its head and neck into two pieces. As he hit the ground, let out a continuous angry and infuriated scream.

"COME ON! COME ON! FIGHT ME YOU YELLOWBELLY, VOSTROYAN DOGS!" He bellowed, killing another mutant by grabbing the flaps of its face and ripping it off. The mutant let out a howl, as the skin and muscle of its face quite literally came off in one pull. It collapsed, only for the grenadier to stomp on its head, crushing it with ease. Blood and chips of bone splashed his gasmask, giving him an even more frightful appearance. His hellish appearance amplified tenfold. He was not aware of it, but the warpfire painted on his mask quite literally became real. Red pillars of psychic flame spewed out of his lenses, a nightmarish noise bellowing out of his mask. To the mutants and cultists that were looking at him, they saw something out of their worst nightmares. The more cowardly (or sensible) of the creatures fled, running past the grenadier or to the exit of the labyrinth. The more bold (or suicidal) tried their chances. This did not work out well for them. Klaus lunged forward, skewering a large mutant. He sawed through it in an instant, walking through its standing body. Organs and vital fluids poured onto him, a drape of intestines getting caught on his helmet crest, being dragged behind him. Two mutants charged at him. The guardsman shot one, while he sheathed his sword, and unleashed an uppercut. Such was the unholy power and strength in this one punch that it went through its jaw and the roof of its mouth, going right through the bottom of its skull and into the center mass of its brain. It shook and twitched in its final rigor mortis throes, as he released his arm from its now ruined head cavity. It turned to face the mutants that still remained. Only six of them were left, and they were certainly uneasy. The most bold of them leaped forward.

Klaus was no longer even aware of what was happening anymore, as his body continued to slaughter more and more of the mutants and creatures.. He could not feel himself ripping apart a cultist into pieces with his own bare hands. He had long put away his weapons, now enjoying the thrill, the feeling of tearing his enemies apart.

One mutant, wielding a large broadsword, lunged at the guardsman. It stabbed him right through the abdomen, the broadsword slipping through the side of his carapace armor. The guardsman stumbled back letting out a low growl of hatred. The mutant warrior let out a wet cry of victory, only for it to gurgle.

Klaus's hand was grabbed tight around its throat, nearly strangling the creature. The guardsman glanced down at the broadsword inside of him, as he simply grabbed it, and pulled it out. He then dropped it to the ground, still coated with his own blood. It glanced back at the mutant, who was still dumbstruck, and clawing at his own neck. Klaus reached to its torso, touching the wound that still poured freely. It then glanced at the mutant, and brought it close enough, just so he could whisper into its earhole.

"My turn." He whispered, a voice filled with malice and hatred. The screams of pain that followed were deafening.

/

Lofn silently watched, as the ork approached the shrines cautiously. The dark gloom that surrounded this place helped greatly in concealing the warboss. She was repulsed by the energies that radiated off the four shrines. They were monoliths, each nearly twenty feet tall. As usual, they were color coded by the god it was meant to please. She looked at them in revulsion, particularly to the one of she who thirsts. She felt anger, looking at this unholy thing. She wanted to destroy it, stamp it underneath her heel.

"He's close. I can feel him." She whispered. Bluddflagg glanced down at her, as he took her out of his coat, and put her down on the ground. The ork glanced around, before he grinned.

A large crate of explosives, conveniently placed by the entrance to the labyrinth below. The ork spotted this, and quickly went over to examine them.

"Yea, yea yea! I can wurk wiff this." He grinned, feeling the foreign, yet familiar explosive charges in his hand.

"We must destroy these shrines. We cannot allow them to remain." She whispered. Bluddflagg nodded. Then, they heard a roar of rage. They both looked up, to see a patrol of mutants, who had stumbled upon them. The mutants charged forward, wielding polearms and swords. She couldn't help but notice how well armored they were, though she didn't know if that would really help with Bluddflagg's massive strength.

"Get in dere!" Bluddflagg roared, as he pulled out his shoota, shoving a clip of ammo in it, and began to fire in long bursts. Bullets poured out of the red hot barrels, bringing down a couple of mutants. Of course, his gunfire wasn't very accurate, and he soon ran out of ammo. He growled in anger, putting it away.

"Go foind da humie!" He snapped aloud, as he reached into his coat, taking out a green glass of liquid. Her eyes opened wide in shock. Fighting Juice. He popped it open, and chugged it down. He let out a roar of rage and hatred, as he slammed down his klaw on one of the mutants, who had eagerly closed the difference. The heavily armored creature had no chance of surviving such a blow, turning into a malformed set of legs, its body being bashed into its pelvis. Lofn obeyed the warboss's command, quickly running into the large opening in the cliff face.

As she entered, she immediately paused. She peered in horror, seeing what was happening.

Klaus was raising a heavily deformed creature in the air, screaming like an animal. He then brought it down on his knee. An audible crack was heard, but he wasn't done yet. His hands were wrenched around its neck, and with a few twists, its head was wrenched off of its body.

He was huffing and puffing, as he discarded the helmet, and kicked the body down a massive set of stairs, now littered with at least a dozen horrendously maimed and ruined bodies. He breathed one last final time, as he glanced at her over his shoulder. Lofn cautiously approached him, lightly putting a hand on his shoulder.

He grabbed it, and lunged forward, holding a knife right up to her throat. She let out a little squeal, taken aback by his sudden violent approach.

"Klaus. Listen. Its me, Lofn." She said quietly. The guardsman was huffing and puffing, growling in anger. She could feel the cold kiss of metal on her neck, and the sheer cloud of anger and hatred that radiated off of him.

Suddenly, she heard a loud explosion. She glanced outside, to see the body of a mutant being launched into the wall, half of its body now missing and steaming.

She glanced back to the grenadier.

"You need to calm down. You need to-" She said, glancing down at the bleeding wounds all over his body.

"Klaus… your… your dying." She whispered. The grenadier slowly retracted his knife, only to collapse to his knees, grunting in pain and anger.

"Frakk… It hurts." He hissed. Lofn quickly went behind him, and tried to help him up. He put a shoulder over her neck, grasping at one wound in particular, one that festered with dark energy. She could feel it, radiating from the wound. She would have to check it later.

"How… how did you get here?" He asked, letting out a snarl of pain, grabbing the black mark that was on his skin. She slapped his hand, getting a groan from the human.

"Don't touch it. You will only make it worse." She snapped. She dragged him to the entrance of the cavern, where Bluddflagg was still fighting off the mutant hordes. A ring of bodies surrounded him, pools of blood dripping around him, as the warboss continued to smash and shoot all that surrounded him. A ring of steel spears had surrounded him, constantly jabbing away at the ork. He was roaring in anger and hatred, killing one after another, pumps of blood jetting out of his body.

Lofn let out a bolt of lightning from her fingertips, popping one of their heads. It exploded in a burst of gore, spilling all over the ground. The ork glanced up, and howled in anger, as he swept his mighty claw in arc, knocking over at least two dozen mutants. He ran over to her side, as they heard the braying of beasts.

Wolf like creatures were quickly making their way towards them, howling at them. Bluddflagg snarled, as he took out another set of explosives from his newly fashioned belt, and threw them.

A loud explosion took place, nearly knocking the farseer off of her feet. A plume of fire and smoke covered the area, making a thick cloud of smog.

"Where da zog is our exit?!" The ork bellowed. Lofn quickly glanced up, her eyes scrunching up at the cloud of black smoke. Suddenly, she saw it. A golden portal, opening in front of them.

"Quickly, through the portal!" She screamed. The warboss nodded, throwing another set of explosives, as he leaped through. The farseer glanced back, seeing the ruined shrine of She who Thirsts. Satisfied, she took her leave. She grabbed the Grenadier by the collar of his coat, and quickly dragged through the portal. She was unaware of the satisfied smirk of a certain individual, watching them escape.

(AN)

Ok, so here is my offer, to those who are willing.

Due to the fact that I am currently taking a break from writing ATM (To bitch to myself)

I will be allowing YOU! Yes, you! To help me write it!

Here is how it will work.

If you are willing to support me in my current state, you can send me a message, saying that you are willing to help.

I will shoot you a prompt of a section, and you write it. I will change very little, except for minor editing.

I will give full credit to each section created.

I cant really offer you much, rather then my sincere gratitude.

So if you are up to the challenge...

then test your luck.

;)


	80. Chapter 79: Spiritual Rites (AN)

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So here is the new chapter.

Not too much action in this one, if thats your thing.

Also, A/N at bottom

Lofn was the first to awake. The Farseer sighed heavily, glancing from side to side. She noticed a pair of dirty and disgusting boots, a horrid stench quite literally wafting into her nose. She glanced up, seeing the smirk of a scarred and green face.

"Unkle." She growled in her native tongue. The ork smirked, offering her a hand.

"Lofn. Yer lucky I found yer signal, othawoise…" He grumbled, leaving the statement on thin air.

"I get it. I cut it close." She grumbled. Unkle glanced to her side, seeing the sleeping shape of Bluddflagg. The ork growled quietly, glancing back at the farseer. He smirked sheepishly,

"Well, I got stuff ta do. I did bring, some gear that ya moight like." He said, giving her a quick wink. He reached into his coat, pulling out a couple of items. He offered it to her.

"Here. Take em. Yer gonna need em." He growled. She glanced at it in curiosity, raising an eyebrow.

"What are these?" She asked, glancing up at him. He smirked.

"You'll see. Listen kid. Have yoo heard bout wot yer grandpappy is plannin?" He asked, concerned slightly. Lofn raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" She asked in confusion. He was about to reply, when they both heard a groan. Klaus was waking up.

"Welp, I gotta go. I got stuff ta do, pepul ta kill, and stuff ta steal." He explained. He then took out what appeared to be a bomb, and twisted it.

"Toodles!" He yelled, as he threw the thing to his feet. A burst of smoke appeared, shrouding the ork. Lofn was slightly confused, as the cloud moved away. The ork was still there, fumbling with what appeared to be a teleportation device.

"Wot da… ergh…" He growled, still trying to work it. He glanced up at the eldar, and smirked.

"Also, believe me. Yoo thought dis place was confusin? Wait until Cataclysym shows up. Dats when da shit show starts." He said, as finally, a bolt of golden lightning struck the ork, making him vanish. She was puzzled by his words, but glanced back at the human, who was coughing.

She rushed to his side. She didn't even process where the ork had taken her, rather for the fact that it was cold. She quickly undid the guardsmen helmet and mask buckle, revealing his face. She gasped in horror, nearly dropping his head to the ground.

Black and red lines traced his face, his eyes darting around. A mumble was released from his mouth. She quickly realised what had happened. The guardsman was possessed. She didn't have too much time then. A spiritual rite, was necessary. She entered his mind, and began to fight the tendrils of corruption by protecting the thing that he valued the most.

/

Eight Years Earlier

(This Section was Cowriten by Tom1002)

/

652733-172948 ducked under a pattern of gunfire, quickly rising up and returning fire with his lasgun. He heard a cry of pain, followed by even more gunfire. A literal storm of bullets hit the stone pillar he was hiding behind, making him duck again. The guardsman sighed, glancing at the rest of his tattered squad.

435612-983610, 781987-736104, 116738-990124, 665571-412380, 343990-876129 and their sergeant, 990765-124876 'Altes Blut' were pinned down in the same building. At least thirty orks were outside the ruined building, occasionally popping out of cover to fire poorly aimed potshots, before diving back into cover. Unfortunately for the Kriegsmen, they had to deal with 'smart' orks. They were identified by high command as orks belonging to the Blood Axes. They were the oddballs of ork society, meaning that they were somewhat competent in what they do. They did not perform the tried and true strategy of charging blindly into gunfire, rather instead used 'tactics'.

652733-172948 peeked out of cover once more. Leading this mob of orks, was a nob. This mighty behemoth of a creature held a large shoota, pointed right at him. Klaus ducked back down, a burst of gunfire narrowly missing him. That almost got him.

"Listen up guardsmen. High command has issued order 228. None are to return to base unless deemed necessary. Unfortunately for us, all squadrons in this blasted city are being recalled." He grumbled. Their was silence.

"We are going to have to break through the ork resistance, and regroup with squad 911 at the other side of the plaza." He said, pointing far in the distance, only to duck down again, a burst of gunfire heading his way.

"652733-172948, give me a report of what's out there." The sergeant demanded. The guardsman nodded, peeking out from his cover.

"Mostly orks armed with autoguns. One armed with a big one, and a leader." He reported. He primed his lasgun, already knowing what the sergeant was about to say.

"We must charge through the square. Head to the downed chimera, salvage any gear you can." The sergeant said. He raised his laspistol and chainsword, while the rest of the guardsmen prepared their lasguns.

"Go!" He bellowed. At once, all of the guardsmen charged out of the ruins, heading to the ruined wreck of the transport vehicle at least twenty meters away. One of the orks barked something, and dozens of guns opened fire. With the mass of bullets heading their way, even the primitive and idiotic orks could not miss.

665571-412380 and 781987-736104 went down almost immediately, quickly riddled down to nothing but leaky pieces of meat. The others were fortunate, in that the orks took great pleasure in seeing how long a body could stand up for. They riddled their bodies with more and more holes, each kick and punch of their bullets keeping the body upward at least a bit more.

"Grenade." Altes Blut demanded. 652733-172948 quickly reached into his belt, pulling out a frag grenade. The sergeant counted to three, and pulled the primer. He quickly threw it over the ruin of the chimera, while 435612-983610 and 116738-990124 were busy searching through the wreckage. 435612-983610 managed to find what appeared to be a plasma gun. A nice catch.

Their was a shout of panic from the orks, as the grenade exploded. A ork body flew past them, tumbling down to the ground a few inches away from where he stood. The guardsman reacted quickly, by opening fire at the still breathing ork. A yellow beam of energy struck the ork in the front of its head, killing it.

"Numbers?" Altes Blut demanded, glancing at 652733-172948. He sighed, glancing from the edge of the chimera. The frag grenade had killed a decent amount of them.

"Possibly 18." The guardsman replied. Suddenly, he felt a clunk on his head. He glanced down, seeing a ork grenade, landing right in front of him. He reacted instantly, throwing the grenade back at the orks. He heard a panicked shout, as the grenade was tossed back. If this was an imperial grenade, it would have exploded a long time ago. However, the ineffective technology of the orks had made this a defect, or at least a dud. He threw the grenade back again, only for it to explode right in front of the Ork Nob who had thrown it. Its head was reduced to mulch, going limp.

He ducked back into cover, seeing that 435612-983610 was giving him a quick thumbs up. Altes Blut peeked out of cover again, ducking down to the sound of gunfire.

"652733-172948, 116738-990124, provide covering fire. 435612-983610 and I will try to close the distance and throw the rest of the grenades at our disposal. The sergeant barked. 652733-172948 nodded, glancing at 116738-990124. The guardsman nodded, holding up his lasgun. As one, they both leaped out of cover and opened fire. They quickly killed at least two orks, who were busy squabbling over their dead leaders gun. The rest of the ork mob on the right side howled in anger, opening fire. It was dangerous to be out in the open, but fulfilling orders was more important than survival. They continued to fire, bolts of fiery energy killing one ork after another. After they had felled their fourth ork did 116738-990124 go down, a round hitting him in the base of the neck, nearly making his head pop off. His body tumbled to the ground. Klaus mentally growled in hatred, as he fired another burst of shots. He killed the final ork on his side, as the rest retreated to the left side of the clearing. He ran back to the chimera, joining 343990-876129 in firing at the orkish mob.

The orks began changing their strategy when the mob began running out of orks. When they got to seven remaining greenskins one of the other orks issued an order. A shrill, animal bark echoed from the creature's throat, as they turned their guns on 435612-983610. She ducked down, as a torrent of gunfire headed her way. 435612-983610 was pinned down, taking fire from the auto guns wielded by the orks. Even a rocks throw distance away, the orks still could not hit the broadside of a barn. Their shots missed, mostly plinking off of the nearby rocks, metal, and into the upper atmosphere though a few of the shots hit got close. One lucky shot hit, but not the intended target. A bullet hit 343990-876129 right in the eye lense, killing him instantly. His head popped like a balloon, bits of flesh and blood bursting out of the shattered eye lense. His body crumbled to the floor. Klaus was running out of ammo, so he quickly stripped 343990-876129's dead body, taking his clips. The guardsmen were down one another man and there the braying war cries of orks could be heard in the distance. These orks, must die.

Altes looked at the building the orks were housed in. It was a decrepit, run down building. Though it provided adequate cover, it still had weaknesses. The structure itself was flimsy. One blast could take it down.

"KRAK!" He barked. 652733-172948 gave him the last grenade. he ordered for a krak grenade to be thrown at the wall further to the left of the building and 652733-172948 reached into his belt. He made sure not to grab the adhesive, as he quickly barreled forward. The tattered remains of their squad continued to provide covering fire. An ork body fell from a window at least a story high, as he began to plant the Krak Grenade on one of the supporting pillars. He set the timer to thirty seconds. Enough time for him to get the hell out of there. He cleared the distance, bullets pounding the ground behind him. To save his skin, he slid, getting right into the cover of the chimera, and accidentally tackling 435612-983610 to the ground. They shared an awkward stare, after which he rolled off of her. The grenade detonated. A plume of black smoke and red fire engulfed the building, as it quickly crumbled into a massive cloud of ash and dust. The guardsmen masks prevented them from choking on the filth. The greenskins, were not so fortunate. The ones who survived fled the cloud of ash and dust, only to barge right into the their awaiting gunline. A few pulls of the triggers, and the orks that survived fell to the ground, a rigor mortis twitch signalling the end of their pathetic life.

Altes nodded. He glanced at the two guardsmen, and approvingly stated "We are moving across the plaza, assume a tactical advance." The three remaining guardsmen slowly made it across, diving from cover to cover. This was all for naught as they reached the midpoint of the plaza. Altes held up a hand, glancing around. 652733-172948 was confused at first, but he quickly realised what he saw. Landmines.

The poorly disguised landmines had almost got him, as he took one cautious step back. They were large clumps of dirt that stuck out of the stone plaza. He almost laughed. These orks must have been purely idiotic if they thought they could kill something with this. However, as he looked around, he slowly realized the danger. It was not the danger of them being there. It was the danger that they were literally everywhere. Every two feet, there was a dirt clump. This continued on for at least another dozen meters.

"Permission to speak, sir?" 652733-172948 asked quietly. Altes growled, glancing at him.

"Denied. Keep moving. I doubt that the triggers work. Watch your step." He grumbled. The sergeant took a step back, making a gesture to the guardsman. You go first.

652733-172948 slowly walked forward, taking careful and cautious steps. He was cautious. Aware. He knew that if he took one wrong step, even moved an inch to the wrong direction, he probably wouldn't have a leg. He was already missing one though. He certainly didn't want to lose another.

435612-983610 was now following him. Altes followed. They were still creeping forward, when they heard the sound of a gunshot.

They all turned to see what appeared to be a grot. The snarky little creature, now realizing that it was noticed, let out a warcry, as it continued to fire with its gun. 652733-172948 didn't think too much of it. Until their was an explosion. An unlucky shot hit a landmine, making it explode.

"Keep moving!" Altes barked. 652733-172948 obeyed, though he did wish he could kill the little creature while he could. Another explosion was heard, one that was too close for comfort. Another shot, one that hit him right in the helmet. It let out a sharp noise of metal smashing onto metal. The guardsman growled, as he turned around, and fired once with his lasgun. The bolt of hot energy hit it right in the head. It fell to the ground, firing one final shot.

"652733-172948! OBEY MY ORDERS, OR YOU WILL BE SH-" Altes barked, before he disappeared in a plume of smoke and flame. 652733-172948 winced slightly. There was nothing left of the sergeant, but a grisly red speck. Suddenly, something fell on the guardsman head, falling into his hand. It was the remains of the guardsman's head. He tossed the body part away, glancing back at 435612-983610.

"We do not speak of this." She simply said. 652733-172948 couldn't agree more.

Ten minutes later, they finally reached the end of the mine field. As they crossed the plaza, they entered the firing line of nearly fifty guardsmen. Seeing their uniforms, their guns were lowered. One of them clambered out of their fortification, approaching them.

"Senior Officer 887121-990812 'Titan'. Identify yourselves." The officer barked, her hands clasped behind her decorated greatcoat. Officer Titan was a more recently promoted officer. 652733-172948 was fairly sure he had served with her at least once. He could see the small amounts of tanned skin, hid away by her uniform and mask. She was unique, being one of the only Kriegsmen he knew that were not either albino or very pale, but tanned. The two guardsmen saluted.

"435612-983610!"

"652733-172948"

Titan let out a 'hmph', glaring between the two of them.

"Where is your commander?" She demanded, glaring right at 652733-172948.

"KIA." He simply replied.

"The rest of the squad?"

"KIA."

Titan sighed heavily, glancing between the two guardsmen.

"I feel like we have done this before." She grumbled.

"You would not be wrong." 435612-983610 replied. Titan shot her a look, before she sighed.

"You are being promoted to Grenadiers." Titan stated. Their was a long silence, as they all glanced at each other. Finally, Titan spoke again.

"Is this clear?"

"Yes, sir." The newly promoted grenadiers barked. They all turned, hearing the sound of a vehicle moving. Two chimeras were closing the distance behind their fortifications. They grinded to a halt, as the ramps to their hull opened up.

"Get in." Titan snarled at her platoon, before she turned to face them. Titan glared at them for a good few minutes, before she sighed, walking towards the chimera.

"You too." She grumbled. The newly promoted grenadiers glanced at each other, before they slowly walked forward.

/

" _You let them go?_ " Aetozar asked quietly, rage filling into its daemonic voice. Sualk flipped a few pages, as he continued to read.

"Yes." He simply said. Aetozar's voice boiled in rage, fury, and hatred.

" _WHY?!"_ It snarled aloud, it's deep and booming voice filling his ears.

"I did not wish for them to die in such a pitiful state. I allowed them escape, so that they can prove a challenge."

" _And you would usurp your master?_ "

"That… daemon, is not my master, and I am not his slave. I will bide my time. When it is right, I will strike. The warband will serve their true master. It is only a matter of time." He grumbled.

" _Do not expend your pragmatism just yet, master. The horror may yet still have uses for you, despite your… treachery._ " Aetozar growled back.

"I serve no one but the God Lord and myself. That horror's days are numbered. They will see." He mumbled. Aetozar was quiet.

" _What did you put in that… human?_ " The daemon asked quietly. Sualk smirked.

"A minor daemon. If his will is strong enough, he should be able to repel it."

" _You think he would survive?_ "

"I know he will. His faith is strong, but I must test it. Every castle must have a sturdy foundation."

" _You and your blasted metaphors._ " The daemon mumbled. Sualk only sighed.

"If only I could see him again. I almost… miss him." He mumbled. Aetozar chuckled darkly.

" _I'm sure we could assign a playdate. Don't fret. I'm sure you two will make a snowman or a sandcastle soon enough._ " The daemon mocked. Sualk frowned slightly, flipping another page.

"Very humurous."

" _I am VERY comedic_." Aetozar said dryly. Sualk snorted.

"I am sure we will meet again. And I am sure, that I will enjoy it." The guardsman smirked.

/

Lofn focused harder, as she unconsciously set up what little runes she had. Each rune of power let out a gentle blue tendril of energy, wrapping themselves around the guardsman body. Bluddflagg was still knocked out, and Lofn had yet to find out what Unkle had given to her. These were secondary thoughts. She had one priority now. Save her only friend.

The human's mouth opened, his eyes turning blood red, as it looked right at her.

" _You will not save him. His soul, is mine. His body, a medium of my might. There is no hope."_ The daemon growled, using his body to voice its threat. Lofn ignored the daemon, as she focused on yet another memory.

The technique was simple, the more things she isolated from the daemons control, the less power it would have over him. Eventually, the human could fight back on his own, and force it out. But for now, she had to give as much as she could.

" _Your race will be wiped off the face of this plane in the coming years. Your souls will please our masters._ " It growled again. She coaxed another tendril of energy, getting the daemon to roar in anger. It thrashed around wildly, trying to rip apart the psychic bonds that held it still.

" _YOU WILL NOT HAVE HIM!_ " The daemon roared in frustration. Lofn focused harder. The daemon was screaming in rage and anger at this point.

" _NO! NO! NO!_ "

/

1 Year Earlier

/

Das letzte Getränk was the only pub in the underground empire of Krieg. It was here that in down time, that members of the Kriegan populace could unwind and relax. Of course, it was very uncommon for any regiments to return to Krieg for at least longer than a month, as they would only be there to replenish and reinforce their regiments.

The Fifth Death Korp was different. They had an… unusual problem, being that their vitae wombs were rather… deficient. The technology being so ancient not only prevented them from getting new ones, but it also meant that repairing it was hard. And so, most Kriegan soldiers serving in the fifth were either conscripts from the population that maintained their bunkers, or soldiers gifted to them from other regiments.

Klaus sighed heavily, slowly sloshing the Kriegan gin. The soft green glow that emanated from the glass showed that the isotopes within were nice and fresh. He took a sip, listening to the mellow music playing from within. At least one thousand guardsmen were in the bar, but it was as quiet as a morgue. This was normal. The people who showed up here usually had a good purpose. To mourn comrades, to remember the past, or to simply drink their worries away. Klaus was the latter.

He heard footsteps in his direction. He glanced up, only to immediately stand up, putting a fist to his chest, almost dropping his drink doing so.

"At ease." Unnachgiebig grumbled. The Watchmaster sat in the seat opposite to him, holding what appeared to be a smoothie. Klaus sat down back in his seat, taking another sip of his gin.

"I wanted to talk to you. Klaus." He said, uncomfortable with saying a personal name instead of a number. Klaus was silent. The watchmaster rolled his eyes, taking off his gas mask to reveal his horrifically scarred and burned face. One of his eyes was a white orb, while the other had a dark glare to it. He took his straw, and inserted it into his drink, before wedging it into his cracked lips. He slurped noisily, taking a long sip. He then let go of his straw, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

"I've heard of your friends… reassignment, elsewhere." The watchmaster began. Klaus raised an eyebrow. He had never seen a watchmaster head into this place, let alone talk to a guardsman of his ranking. Nevertheless, he would be belaying an order if he did not reply.

"Yes. She had been given orders to be conscripted into an inquisitor's personal retinue." He replied. Unnachgiebig let out a snort, rolling his eyes. Klaus took a bit of a hit to that.

"Bloody inquisition. Always sticking their nose into what every they please." He grumbled. Klaus raised an eyebrow.

"Sir?" He asked in confusion. The watchmaster sighed, reaching into his coat. He pulled out a folder, filled with papers and forms. He then offered a pen, and slid it to him. Klaus opened the folder and took out the papers, looking through them. He then raised an eyebrow.

"Your an inquisitor?" He asked in confusion. Unnachgiebig rolled his eyes.

"No you dolt. That's not from me. Its for you." He grumbled. Klaus glanced back at the papers. He took the pen, and was about to sign it.

"It's your choice." He grumbled. Klaus looked up, confused.

"What do you mean?" he asked. The watchmaster tapped the side of his drink with his fingers.

"You don't have to sign these papers. It's your choice." He simply replied. They both looked up, hearing footsteps.

Karen was walking towards the large counter of the bar, when suddenly, the bartender said something, and put down a glass of branntwein. She was confused, glancing at the drink, saying something unintelligible. The bartender the pointed right at Klaus.

"What's going on? I didn't order a drink." He said in confusion.

"I did." Unnachgiebig grumbled. Klaus glared at him in confusion.

"Why?"

"You two were made for each other you know. Born the same date, same pod, trained in the same schola, fought the same battles. You should talk to her about this. Maybe… go with her."

"I can't sir. I do not wish to steal the glory away from her." He grumbled. Unnachgiebig got up and left, taking his drink with him.

"Too late." He said, as Karen took his spot. She slid into the seat across from him, giving him a wide smile.

"How do you know what I drink?" She asked quietly. Klaus sighed.

"I know nearly everything about you. Favorite color, favorite weapon, favorite primarch, and favorite god."

"There is only one, is there not?"

"I suppose you are right." He smirked. He took another sip of his drink. They were quiet for a few moments.

"I leave tomorrow." She mumbled. He raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I must leave by morning. There's a ship already here." She mumbled. Klaus smirked.

"Don't worry. The Ordos Hereticus would be far more effective if they had you by their side." He said, offering words of encouragement. She didn't say anything in return. They were quiet.

"This will be the last time we meet." she said quietly. Klaus glanced back at the forms once more. If he signed these forms, he could prevent such a thing from occurring. She was anticipating him to do it. She wanted him to pick up the pen, and put his signature on it. She didn't have a choice. He did. He looked at it once more.

"Karen. You deserve this. I don't." He simply said, pushing the papers away. She glanced at it, before back at him.

"Why do you say that?" She asked quietly. Her hands were clasped together into a fist on the table. She hadn't even touched her drink yet.

"The inquisitor chose you for service in the Ordos Hereticus. Not me. You deserve the privilege to work with them. I do not. Therefore, I see myself as unfit for service. You however, are fit. You are prepared, ready, and able to dispatch the enemies of man as you see fit. You deserve this privilege. I do not." He simply stated.

"Klaus… We have been together for years." Karen said softly, putting her hand on his. He twitched slightly, glancing back at her with a unchanging face.

"We're friends… right?" She asked. Klaus sighed.

"Yes. We are. I do not understand why you want me to go with you." He said in reply.

"Why don't you?"

"I told you. It is not my duty. It is yours."

"Klaus please. I have never asked anything from you before. I am asking one thing from you. Please. I don't want to go to a battlefield without you. I don't want to die anywhere in this galaxy with anyone, except for you." She pleaded. Klaus guiltily glanced back at the stack of papers on the table, and then at the pen in his other hand.

"Sign this paper, and we can fulfill our oaths. We can repay our sins. Together." She said. Klaus looked at her hard. Her grey eyes were looking into his sapphire blue. He could feel something… alien, radiating in her stare. He frowned then, slowly pushing the stack of papers forward.

"I won't. I don't deserve such a honor." He growled. She stood up, throwing her drink all over the table. Alcohol was spilled all over the papers on the table, the glass shattering. Klaus raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You appear to have fluid dripping from your eyes. I would have that checked out, if I were you." He pointed out. Karen gave him a furious look in his eye, but did not say a word. She turned and ran, quickly leaving. Klaus was puzzled, thrown in a loop for a good minute. He frowned, frustrated that his drink was now tainted with branntwein. He hated branntwein. He took a sip of it, as a janitor came to clean the mess up. He saw her figure leave, slamming the doors behind her. Klaus was aware of the hundreds of jagged stares that were heading his way. He growled in anger at this. Didn't they have anything else better to do then judge him?

"She'll be fine. She'll be fine…" He mumbled to himself. He finished his gin, and left his ID card on the table for payment, and stood up, and walked away.

A few hours later, he was lying in his bunk, his eyes blankly staring up the roof. It felt very… strange, knowing that their is no one below him. He did not sleep that night. Or the night after.

/

" _No! No! No! NO!"_ The creature roared. It was losing its grip over the guardsman's mind, she could feel it. But the battle was not over yet. Not by a long shot. The farseer concentrated harder. A thin trail of blood dribbled out of her nose. Klaus was making unholy noises, thrashing around and screaming. The odd colors in his veins were draining, his sanity returning, but it was not over yet. One final push, one last… 'hoorah' as he would describe it. She did so.

/

One Month Earlier

(This Section was CoWritten By Deathwatch Razgriz)

/

Klaus raised an eyebrow, glancing at the ork warboss. The guardsman was confused.

"You said that this was combat training… and why did you take us to the beach?" Klaus asked quietly. The massive warboss turned, giving him a glare over his shoulder. His massive frame blotted out most of the crimson and purple sunset.

"Simpul. Couples ferapee." He said, giving him a toothy grin. Klaus was still confused.

"Ferapee? What does that-" He said, quickly realising what the ork meant. He then made an angry frown, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We are not engaged, let alone couples." He mumbled. The ork gave him a grin, giving a tiny nudge of an elbow.

"Ye, thats what dey all say. Soides, luv is battulfield of its own!" Bluddflagg explained. Klaus was not moved by such a statement.

"I do not love her greenskin. How much must I drive that into your thick skull of yours?" Klaus growled. He was becoming very… very… VERY tired of him constantly bringing this up.

"Well at least tolk to each uvva. Woi yoo value each uvva, er sumfin." He grumbled. Bluddflagg's gaze was averted elsewhere. The guardsman's own eyes followed.

In the distance, off of the cost of Theramore, they saw a large grey fin, sticking out of the water. It slowly cruised in the distance, sailing across the water. The ork grinned wolfishly, cracking the knuckles in his only remaining hand. Klaus didn't exactly understand his intent, but… whatever.

Hearing footsteps behind him, he could see that Lofn had caught up to him. She was wearing her ghost helm, covering her face and most of her hair. Bluddflagg reached into his coat, pulling out a large towel, and gently laid it onto the sandy ground. Klaus was tempted to just go walk up the cliff face and back into town, but something convinced him otherwise.

He ignored Bluddflagg, who was scavenging through a pile of debris and driftwood, as he glanced back at Lofn. who was approaching him. Klaus had to admit, he always felt… awkward around her. While he always felt a sense of both hatred and frustration to the warboss, and a sense of both fear and awe to Legion, Klaus was always conflicted with her presence. It was like she had some sort of calming aura around her, that despite his mostly violent thoughts towards her, he never even thought of carrying them out.

Bluddflagg yanked out a large, rusty steel stick from the ground, one that was nearly more than half of his length. He began to unchain the scrap armor from the pegs on his body, letting pieces of it fall to the ground, and began to tie the chains to the pegs of the stick, all the while sharpening it to a razors edge with the powerfield of his klaw.

"I can't believe I'm actually going through this." Klaus mumbled to himself. Lofn took off her ghost helm, a hiss of compressed air releasing itself from several tubes within. She shook her hair, revealing her as usual, beautiful face. She sat down on the towel next to him, as they both watched Bluddflagg fashion some sort of weapon.

"Roight, lets see how dis goes. Klaus, why don't yoo say sumfing that you appreciate bout Lofn?" He asked. Lofn seemed to be just as confused as the guardsman, but she simply ran with it. Klaus was anything but.

"I refuse to take place in your petty game." He grumbled. As he felt the glimmers of heat of the sun dancing on the edges of his skin where the uniform went just shy of covering him completely, he decided to do something… unusual. Slowly yet surely, he unbuttoned his uniform, gently laying it to the side, leaving himself only with both his upper and lower undergarments. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing his almost corpse white, hairless arms.

"Foine den." Bluddflagg grumbled, as he stopped sharpening the stick, now making it look into a gnarled, three headed spear.

"Lofn, it's yer turn. We'll keep doin this till oitha da sun comes back up, or until yoo stop actin so girly." Bluddflagg suggested. Klaus narrowed his eyes, blushing slightly

"Girly? You would dare you savage beas-"

"I appreciate you for your brutal, yet effective honesty." Lofn began. This made the guardsman pause, and the ork to snicker

"What?" He said in confusion.

"I stated something that I value within you." She simply said. Klaus blinked once.

"Uhm. Hmph." Klaus mumbled. He reached for his gasmask, slowly slipping it off. He winced slightly, the bright sunset pouring into his eyes. This was slightly awkward. The guardsman sighed, scratching the back of his head, in the usual spot.

"I suppose I appreciate your… um… charisma?" He said quietly, slightly unsure of what to say. The warm rays of the sun that beat on his pale skin was tempting him. The cool ocean waters that were only ten feet away were tempting as well. He could go in for a dip.

Almost as if reading his mind, Lofn began to take off her robes. Klaus averted his eyes elsewhere as she did so. He did not want to accidentally get a peek at her… body. Soon, all she was wearing was a short shirt and some sort of pants that only went up to her knees. She gently handed him her robes, to be put on the far side of the towel.

Everytime Klaus touched her robes and clothes, he always felt a shiver down his spine, a tingling sensation down his spine. It was unfathomably comfortable, so much so that describing the exact sensation was not only difficult, but impossible. Heretical as the thought was, he wouldn't exactly mind having… whatever this material was on his persona. He put them away, as they both looked at the water.

"So what do you plan to do after this?" He said, offering a gateway into a discussion. Bluddflagg gave him a wink, one that he promptly ignored. His only eye beadily eyed the edge of the water, as he slowly walked into the gentle waves, holding the mighty chained spear in his only hand, while he had his powa klaw infused onto the other. Lofn blinked, unsure what to say.

"I… I don't know." She mumbled. Klaus raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"What? You didn't think you would get this far?" He asked playfully. She did not respond in kind.

"I was never meant to come with you in the first place. I believed I was supposed to manipulate your movements from the shadows, but my grandfather decided otherwise." She answered truthfully.

"Your grandfather seems to control many decisions in your life, but not your mother nor father. Why is that?" He asked. Lofn was silent for a few moments.

"He controls everything. He is the most powerful seer of our kind, let alone the craftworld." She replied. Klaus stared at her hard.

"He doesn't like you very much… doesn't he?" He asked softly. She didn't say anything, only glancing away. Klaus sighed on the inside, as he gently wrapped an arm around her shoulder and over her neck, scooting closer to her.

"You can tell me. I won't inform that… beast." He said, shooting a hateful glare at the ork. Finally, he realized what the ork was doing. He smirked lightly, as the ork dragged the harpoon across his mostly bare chest, cutting a deep gash in his flesh. Blood started to trail into the water, as the ork traveled into more deeper waters. The silver fin across the water, slowly headed to the ork now. He was hunting.

"I'm fairly sure he's tried to get me killed more than once." Lofn said quietly, getting Klaus's attention.

"My superiors have tried to get me killed since I was born. I suppose then, we have something in common." He mumbled. Lofn glanced at him.

"You don't hate them for that?" She asked. Klaus shook his head, sighing.

"There's a saying on Krieg. A story, more or less." He said. He glanced up at the purple and yellow sky, thinking about what he was going to say. He then sighed.

"They say that the aspects of both Life and Death are lovers. Everyday, Life makes gifts for her partner. She creates plants, xenos, humans, and beasts alike, and sends them on their way. Eventually, Death gets her gifts. He takes them in his withering hands and embraces them, because without her gifts, Death has nothing to live for." He mumbled. Lofn smirked slightly.

"That sounds like a paradox." She suggested. Klaus shrugged.

"It is. Without life, their is no death, and without death, there is no life. They cannot exist without each other and at the same time, their is always a balance. For everything life creates, death takes. Death does not give back gifts, for they are all so perfect and wonderful, that he would have no reason too." Klaus glanced back at Lofn.

"I thought you would be doing the philosophy. Not me." He grumbled. She sighed.

"Perhaps, it is better to get both sides of the argument. Even if it is from someone lesser." She joked. Klaus was tempted to lash out with a barbed insult, but he let it slide.

Bluddflagg had by now caught his quarry. He was wrestling with a fish nearly twice his side, as they fought nearly twenty feet away from the shore. They were clawing and biting at each other, both of them bleeding profusely into the ocean waters.

"You never answered my question about your parents." Klaus said quietly.

"Sometimes… there aren't any answers, and sometimes, its better you don't know." She said quietly. Klaus respected that. If she did not wish to share such information, then he wouldn't press it any further. For now, anyways. He knew that her father was a member of the officio assassinorum (as unlikely as it would be) but he still had no idea who, or let alone what her mother was. A warrior perhaps? A seer? Militia? A prisoner?

"I… I never knew my mother." She mumbled. Klaus glanced at her. Tears were coming down her face, in light yet noticeable amounts. He gently reached forward, wiping them away. Though she may be a half breed of xenos and human, she was still partly human. He could offer some pity, even though his speciality was in killing people like her, not comforting them.

"She… died soon after having me. Her stone lost, my father left me with my aunt and grandfather to find her. He said that one day, he would return with her. And that I could hear her voice." She said, her words periodically interrupted with a sniffle.

"He hasn't returned since." She mumbled.

"I assure you. When our quest is over, I will offer you a deal. I shall help you find this stone, but in return, I only ask for one thing."

"What's that?"

"To find a home."

"What do you mean?"

"If I survive, I know I won't be able to return to Krieg. I can't return home, unless you know how to manipulate records and move top secret files. I… I don't know what to do after all of this." Klaus grumbled.

"I have to fulfill my oath. To die in battle. But what if I cannot find one, worthy of my presence?" He added on, deeply thinking.

"I promise you. The craftworld provides for those who serve." Lofn said, finally managing to calm herself.

"I do not serve your craftworld. I serve the emperor forth most than anything else." He grumbled in reply. They were quiet.

"Want to go swimming?" Lofn asked quietly. Klaus glanced at her. He didn't have anything else to do.

"Why not?" He asked. The two of them stood up, approaching the ocean waters.

Klaus got up, as he approached the ocean waves. He ignored the slight red tinge, as he dipped his toes. He had only ever gone swimming once in his life, and that was due to extreme flooding. The cool water felt refreshing on his skin. He walked forward, ignoring the deadly brawl at least thirty feet away, as the ork was still wrestling with the shark. Soon the water got up to his knees. Then his waist. It didn't get much higher.

Lofn cautiously followed him. It was clear that she was not very used to it. It was odd to say that Klaus saw something within her. Like they had met before. As he looked into her eyes, he felt something. Something he had not felt… ever. Happiness.

/

To the one person who asked, and for everyone else, after I finish Kriegcraft, I will begin working on a Narrative Total War: Warhammer 2 Campaign

I will be doing it on Legendary Difficulty. I will do some serious tweaking and side stories in addition.

And obviously, from the previous authors note, I will be doing Skaven. Queek in particular.

I chose this as their aren't really any good Warhammer Fantasy stories on FF. I hope to change that (insert circlejerk joke here)

Hope to see it soon ;)


	81. Chapter 80: Nick of Time

Unkle shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth, as he leaned back on a sofa. He was wildly smashing his fingers into a small piece of plastic. The ork was taking a break from his schemes and planning of manipulation and treachery, instead eating some popcorn, drinking some alcohol, and playing some 'videogames', as the humies called it. An odd experience, to be sure.

The sound of thumping and the vibrations that shook him made him alerted to his pets presence.

The Hive Tyrant let out a low growl, glancing between him and the large TV in front of him. Its yellow, malevolent eyes gave a look almost like disappointment, and growled at him.

"Cmon Nibs! I'm taking a break! Ill do it lata." The mek growled. The Hive Tyrant growled at him again.

"Woddya mean, 'I don't take you out for adventures enough'? I take ya all da zoggin toime!" The ork growled. Nibbla hissed at him. The ork sighed, throwing down his controller. He glared hard at the TV, before back at his pet.

"Alroight foine! Lets go den. Gotta get it soona er lata." He mumbled. He took out a portable tellyporta stikkbomb, setting a series of complex coordinates. He walked over to the Tyranids side, and pulled the pin, dropping the stikkbomb to the ground. With a bright yellow and red flash, they both disappeared.

/

Klaus opened his eyes, coughing heavily. His vision was groggy and his… everything hurt. He coughed again, spitting out a bit of blood, as he moaned again. He felt a pair of hands gently pick his head up from the cold ground, onto something much more warmer and far more comfortable. It took him a good ten seconds for him to regain a semblance of what was happening. It became clear.

"Oh frakk. I feel like a baneblade just ran over my ribcage." He mumbled, coughing again. He then glanced up, seeing a face.

"Lofn? I thought you were-"

"Dead?"

"No. Ran off. I… are we… dead?" He asked quietly. She shook her head.

"No. No, we arent. We're going to get you to safety. I promise you." She said, her voice slowly yet surely developing into panic. Klaus peaked at himself, noticing the horrendous wounds on his body, before his head was forced back down by a gentle push of her hand. Klaus knew that today was the day. Today, he was the day that he would die.

Mentally, he felt a grim yet pleasant blanket, being tossed over everything. Lofn was a treacherous bitch who had ruined his psyche and life, but it didn't matter anymore. Finally, after all of these years, he had fulfilled his oath. Finally, he could achieve the peace he fought for so many battles and wars. He knew this wouldn't be easy for her. So while he still had breath in him, he would try to soothe her loss.

"Lofn… I know that I'm dying. But it's ok. This is what I have fought for so many years. It's ok. It's alright. Calm down. Please don't cry." He said. He tried to pull himself up, only for him to hiss. He glanced down at himself. He was bleeding from at least four different places, the worst injury being the hole in the left side of his lower torso. It was bleeding so badly that he felt dizzier by the second just looking at it. He slowly put his hand to it, trying to staunch the bleeding.

"You're not dying. You're not going to die." She said. He felt something wet drip on his face. It was clear what it was a second after. She was crying. He sniffed. He almost felt a tear lurch out of his eye, before he forced it back in. No. He wouldn't show weakness. Not now.

"Don't delude yourself. Please, don't make this hard for me. I don't want to die with regrets." He mumbled. Lofn was furiously weeping at this point. She was enraged and at the same time, engulfed in grief.

There was silence. Their was only the sound of ragged breathing and sniffling. Klaus coughed, spitting out a bubble of blood. It trickled down his chin, dripping onto his neck.

"Frakk… it hurts. I thought it would have been quicker…" He mumbled quietly. He grabbed Lofn's hand. Hard. He held it up to his chest, making it ball into a fist.

"Have courage. Have courage Lofn. I… I believe you can finish what you started." He said quietly.

"I won't leave you like this! I'll… I'll…" She said, trailing off. She knew now. There was very little she could do, except offer some amount of comfort.

Klaus was calm and collected. It was an odd thing to describe. It was weird for someone to be so calm, so patient, and so peaceful, as they took some of their last breaths. This was what Klaus had been waiting for years. He dreamed of this moment, eagerly awaiting to repay his sins, and for him to join his brothers at the Golden Gates. Hopefully, he could make it there.

"Lofn, relax. Please. Don't make me sad. I… I want you to have… this." He said, as he reached to his neck, grabbing his necklace and unclipping it from his neck. He slowly held it up, offering out to her. It was a blue and grey stone, clamped together in a golden ring and chains.

"Something to remember me by. If… if that makes you feel any better." He mumbled. She slowly took it, examining it. Klaus was not paying enough attention to notice the look of shock on her face as she slowly looked over the pendant.

"Lofn… could you… could you prop me up? I want… I want to see the sun, one last time before I go." He whispered. It was becoming painful just to speak. He wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn't do it. Not yet. He would stay awake as long as possible. Just to make her happy. She saved his life more than once. He at least deserved to give her this one last thing before he parted.

Lofn did so. She slowly helped him up, having him rest on the left side of her shoulder. His chest covered most of her torso, while his head was nuzzled just underneath hers. They were both watching the coastline, the dark fog smothering the skies. Klaus was sad, for two reasons. One, that he would not see the sun again in his life, and second… that he would be leaving her behind.

He growled mentally. Even as he died, he still despised her for what she did to him. She corrupted him. Twisted him into the thing that he was today. He hoped that she suffered after he perished.

However, such a thought was banished, when rays of golden light began to peek through the dark mist. Golden beams of energy pierced through the thick miasma, covering areas of the beach, and even part of their bodies with the light. Klaus breathed in, and out, coughing again. Perhaps he would get his last wish. He could feel the pain numbing. The edges of his vision darkened. His body was starting to shut down. It wouldn't be long now. He was almost giddy. Joyful.

Then, like a curtain being pulled up, the golden light had taken over everything. Klaus covered his eyes, the light being like a supernova to him. As he peeked up, he saw something, and gasped. Ships.

Ships, in their hundreds, were approaching the coastline. The ship at their helm had a symbol that was familiar. A golden anchor upon a white banner. Theramore. On this ship were two people in particular. Jaina Proudmoore, and Legion. Legion glared at him, pointing a fiery finger at him. Klaus growled in agony, as his wounds were temporarily forced together by his. The pain returned with a vengeance, and his vision brightened. He was saved… but… he didn't want to be.

Klaus blinked a few times, realising what this meant. His face formed into a disappointed frown, and he let out a sigh of frustration. Lofn was weeping tears of joy, while he was silently weeping in frustration.

"Your safe. Your safe. It's ok." She said quietly, holding him so tight that he might just suffocate. He was so… so close. He silently prayed that she hugged him harder, hoping that perhaps she could just snap his neck for him. She did no such thing, as she turned him around, forcing his eyes right into his shoulder, (and part of his head into her breast).

"Sonova bitch." He mumbled quietly. He couldn't even imagine the surgeon's report after this.

/

"Multiple puncture wounds, a wound that nearly punctured both the spleen and the kidney, partially inflamed lungs, and let's not talk about the bites and especially the burn." The surgeon said, slowly looking over what his three apprentices and nurses could get from what remained of his body. Klaus rolled his eyes, being forced to inhale some sort of healing magic. Finally, the surgeons apprentices (a couple of gnomes) jumped away, walking out of the tent. He snorted a bit, sniffing in the last bit of powder that was forced into his lungs.

"Don't tell me what I already know. How long before I can get into action?" He asked. The surgeon blew a bit of air out of his nose, glancing through the reports. He glanced back up at him, before down at the papers.

"If you recover nicely…" The surgeon said, glancing through several long pages of parchment.

"A week. Maybe two. I suggest serious physical therapy." The surgeon grumbled aloud. Klaus rolled his eyes, clenching his teeth so hard that he might just crack them. Great. Stuck in bed for a week. Just what he wanted. The surgeon got up from his knees, as he turned around to face Lofn, who was standing right next to him. Her robes were dripping wet of sea water, from washing away his own blood.

"Try not to move too much. I would hate to stitch you up again." He added, glancing at Klaus, before back at Lofn. The surgeon then left a glowing jar of light green salve in Lofn's hands. He whispered something into her ear, before the surgeon left the tent. Klaus coughed slightly, glancing up at her. He was still severely disappointed that rescue came in the nick of time. He had offhandedly requested if the surgeon would just… put the wrong chemical in him, but he promptly refused such a thing. He supposed that he should man up, though he was nothing but sore. The medical team had forced him down and made him take a variety of herbs and magical medicine, though he demanded that he was stitched up. He wanted the scar there. Like a souvenir.

"What did he say?" He asked quietly, as Lofn sat down right next to him. She glanced at him, giving him a suspicious glare.

"Healing Salve. Applied three times a day. Everywhere you're wounded." She said in reply. Klaus glanced down at himself, seeing the numerous stitches decorated both on his torso, the ruined flesh on the side of his hip where he got plasma ashes on it, and the much more numerous rashes and blisters that covered his body. God knows what infections he could have gotten from these bites.

"Don't get any ideas." He grumbled, sighing heavily. He leaned back on his pillow, taking in a deep breath. Lofn slowly went to his side, and lowered herself to his level. She slowly opened the jar. It opened with a pop, as she put the lid aside. She dipped her fingers in the salve, and slowly reached forward. She kept glancing at him, like she was worried he might just bite her hand off.

"She makes one wrong move… and you get her." Grenadier Klaus grumbled from his shoulder. Priest Klaus however, was silent. It was like he was in extremely deep thought. Lofn then gently pushed her fingers on the burn wound.

Klaus was brought back to reality by the freezing cold touch of the salve. He bit down, trying not to make any… uncomfortable noise. The balm stung like a swarm of hornets, yet the sensation that followed was euphoric.

"Ah… emperor… frakk." He moaned. Lofn smirked slightly, as she slowly began to lather the area with the balm.

"Sounds like you're enjoying this." She giggled slightly. Klaus gave her a scrutinizing look, one full of anger and embarrassment. He hated that she was treating him like this, but he knew that for now, he didn't exactly have too much of a choice.

"Just hurry it up and apply it." He grumbled. He was feeling… uncomfortable. He would do it himself, but he was worried that he might rip the stitches on his left arm if he moved it around too much, so he decided to keep movement to a minimum. He was quiet for several moments, feeling her hand and fingers probing areas around his body. He tried to keep any noises of pleasure out of his mouth, sounding too much like city whores for his liking. Then, she began to apply it on his arms. He was quiet, until he finally decided to bring something up.

"Lofn. I… I wish to talk to you about the… uhm… scarabs." He said quietly. Lofn froze. She was almost unsure of what to do, the question catching her off guard. She then glanced at him sighing heavily. Klaus looked right into her eyes, deciding it was finally time.

"Listen… I appreciate you… rescuing me. But… I don't think I am ready to forgive you. However, there is a way." He said. He noticed the interested look. She really wanted his forgiveness. He wasn't ready to give it. Not yet.

"When this is done, I want you to find a way to take them out. Please. I don't care about the risk. I know why you did it. You were lonely, and you wanted someone to sympathize with you. Of course, I don't agree with the decision, but it can still be fixed… right?" He asked. Lofn was silent for several moments, before she nodded.

"Yes, we can fix it. We can fix it. Now lie down, and relax. I want you to take a nice, long nap. Try not to move. I don't want to hold you down like that again." She whispered quietly. Her soothing voice filled his ears, filling him with a dull happiness. He couldn't help but feel angry at the fact that it was probably manufactured. Some combination of chemicals that was released into his system. He couldn't even imagine how bad the scar was at the back of his head. That's probably where the damn necron put it in. If only it was here now…

She gave him a kiss on the forehead, before she put the balm to his side, and covered him up with a blanket. Klaus felt slightly annoyed, realizing that she was basically babying him.

"Good night." She whispered into her ears. Klaus rolled his eyes at the comment.

"It's morning." He grumbled. She giggled lightly, pinching his nose.

"Same thing."

/

Lofn came out of the tent, letting out a deep breath of exhilaration and relief. Thank Isha that he managed to pull through, and thank Asuryan for the arrival of the fleet. She heard footsteps behind her. She turned around, to see Legion.

The Damned Legionnaire was giving her an odd look. He seemed… taller.

"Lofn. Where is Klaus?" He asked quietly.

"Sleeping." She replied. Legion nodded silently. Lofn glanced around. The camp here was massive, and ships were still sailing towards the coast.

"You brought quite the crowd… didn't you?" She mumbled. Legion sighed, scratching the back of his head.

"Yes, I did. It was quite a pain. I was tempted to knock a couple of heads together just to keep them from killing each other." He mumbled. "The peace won't last long. I'm sure of it. Keep your ears open, and your eyes peeled. I have a suspicion that they may turn on each other soon." The space marine mumbled. She sensed it too. A vast, thick swathe of distrust. It was nauseating, and she had to shut it out soon upon the discovery.

"How did you convince them? I never knew you were one for politics." She asked quietly.

"You would know about that… wouldn't you?" He asked humouredly. She rolled her eyes at that comment.

"However, I had help. You have already met her, I assume." He said, as they both turned to face her. Lofn's light mood dropped rather quickly, a sour look on her face.

"Jaina."

"Lofn."

Both of the women felt rather… awkward, to see each other. They slowly reached out, shaking each others hands. They glared at each other for a few moments, before they looked back at Legion.

"You know of this… chaos, correct? Well?" Jaina asked. Lofn nodded. Klaus knew better, but Klaus was in no condition to do much really.

"I do, yes. Why do you ask?"

"The alliance requested both of your… advice, in how to deal with this foe." She said quietly. Lofn and Legion glanced between each other, before they nodded.

"Very well. Let us see your… leaders then. They will need all the guidance they can get to defeat the eternal foe." Lofn said.

/

Unkle took a sip from his drink, making sure that no one got near not only his smoothie, but himself. Nibbla made sure of it.

He was taking a visit to Commorragh, the city of twilight and midnight. Here, the sun never shined, and the only way was up. He was looking for one thing. Well, two really. One, were a couple of slaves. He needed them for his… experiments. That was easy. The second thing, was much, much harder. Which is why he obviously came prepared.

The two of them were marching through the slave markets. Hundreds of thousands of these dregs were rounded up and sold to the highest bidder. The Dark Eldar society was peddled by slave labor. Most of them were human. Go figure. He had no use for humies. He already had thousands of home made servitors on his space station, working constantly to keep oxygen flowing, gravity running, and maintenance… manintenancing. No… he wanted more… exotic stock.

The Slavers that made their living here knew of him. He had visited them countless times, and they all knew that he had virtually no sense of money.

"Fine time you arrived! I have the finest slaves, captured only hours ago!" A slaver said, eagerly trying to offer his trade. Unkle was going to shove him away, when Nibbla did the job for him. The Hive Tyrant whipped its tail at the slaver, nearly sending him into his own stock. Such a show of force was enough to keep the eager slavers away at a fair distance, but even then, he couldn't drown out there incoherent gibbering.

Getting some slaves was easy. What was not easy, was the second part of his plan. See, Eldrad kind of betrayed him. Yet again, Unkle did kind of see him coming. Unkle was fairly old for an ork, being nearly forty terran years old (though he hadn't grown in size for nearly 35 of those years) and he knew well of Eldrad's reputation. The Craftworld Eldar had a reputation for such manipulation. Countless times in their existence had they manipulated the more younger or stupid races. Unkle did not exactly pity his brethren (since he despised them all the more), but he would never accept such a betrayal lying down. No. He needed proper revenge. Killing Eldrad wouldn't be enough. He had to humiliate him. Not just him, but his entire kind.

He was looking for someone in particular. He heard rumors of a Dark Eldar, so potent in the art of raiding that he was almost unmatched. Just the kind of brutality he needed. First, he need to find him, which was hard enough. Then, he needed to find a way to make him join his team. And then he needed to figure out an… insurance policy, just to make sure he didn't back out of it.

He lazily focused back on the market, when he found something… interesting.

"Nibbla, slow down. I think we got sumfing." The ork said, grinning slightly. He approached a slaver in particular. He knew this one.

"Tahmor! Me buddy! Wazzap!" The ork said in their tongue, grinning with glee. The slaver was completely unaware, until the ork tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Immediately, two of his Incubi bodyguards approached him, their power weapons raised. The slaver waved them away.

"Back! He is a friend." He snarled in anger. The Incubi glanced at each other, but did not say anything else. They slowly backed away, while Tahmor glanced at Unkle, and smiled.

"My old friend! Business is blooming, is it not?" The Dark Eldar said, offering his hand in a handshake. Dark Eldar were notorious for their xenophobia, but xenophobia meant nothing when compared to the most priceless of artifacts and amounts of valuable materials the ork always carried on his body. Like all Dark Eldar, he looked beautiful, but with their own cruel looks and fashion.

"Yea yea. Say… whos dat?" Unkle asked quietly, glancing at the chained up dark eldar women. Tahmor smirked.

"You must be aware of the political war in commorragh. An endless battle, and this one." He said, wrapping the chains that were around the woman's neck and yanked it up, making her gag on it.

"Has lost. Worthless dreg killed four of my masters henchmen." Tahmor mumbled, before he glanced at the ork. He grinned slightly.

"The question is… how much are you willing to offer?" He asked. Unkle decided to get a better look. He kneeled down to the furious woman, lifting her chin with a talon. She was young, but by how much, he could not tell. She had a furious glint in her eyes, and judging by the sheer arrogance that she was exerting like pheromones, Unkle could tell she was a true born. Gestated in flesh, not in glass and steel.

"Lookie here. Wot we got here huh?" He said, joyfully pinching her porcelain cheek. The woman snarled, and bit down on his finger. Hard. Very hard.

"YOOOOOW!" Unkle yelped, pulling back the stump that was now his index finger. Blood splurted onto his face, and then into his mouth, as he shoved it into his mouth and suckled on it. He glanced down at the slave, who spat what was left of his finger at his feet. Tahmor was about to flay her with a barbed and lashed whip, when Unkle stopped him.

"Dont. I loike it when dey boite. Not literally, but yoo got wot I meant." He said, taking his bloody stump out of his mouth, as he grabbed his mutilated finger off of the ground, and began to stick it back on. "How much?"

"I will determine if your price is suitable…"

"How bout diss?" He asked, as he reached into his pockets, and took out a handful of multi-colored soulstones. Tahmor's eyes boggled slightly. The bright glimmer that came out of each stone showed that they were occupied. Bargaining with Eldar was pathetically easy. One soulstone was enough to ward off an assassin. A handful, an army. Of course, you always had to be careful with such a bargaining chip. They may just kill you instead.

"All yours." He said, greedily taking the soulstones from his hand. Unkle had them like pocket change to be honest, though getting them from his main source was not his favorite thing to do. The ork grinned, as he was handed the chains. He wrapped them around his hand. Hard, making it so it was nearly impossible for her to move without snapping her neck. Something that he would imagine that she would have no trouble with doing. So obviously, he had to do the best thing he could do.

Balling his hand into a fist, he knocked her right in the back of the head, knocking the daylight out of her. He loosened the chains, and began to tie it onto Nibbla's spore chimneys. The Hive Tyrant let out a growl, but said nothing more. He gave a quick salute to Tahmor, leaving the slaver with his bounty. He still had to go shopping. He also, still had some bribery to do.


	82. Chapter 81: The Beginning of the End

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So here is the new chapter.

Could have been longer, but I was feeling really... lazy.

Since Halloween is coming around, and I already did a Halloween special, I probably wont do one again.

And even if I do, it might just be horror stories. If you guys would want a new holiday special, then let me know.

Anyways, enjoy.

Bloodthirsters were legendary for not only their martial prowess in the battlefield, but also their savage, almost incomprehensible rage. Sualk was witnessing such rage, first hand.

He averted his eyes, while the Bloodthirster literally slaughtered everyone in the chamber around him. The mighty greater daemon tore apart the other sacrifices. The one that he had offered. Of course, he made sure that the blasted horror had no idea of what he had done. He had fed the hungry beast, and he would demand something out of it.

As the Bloodthirster continued to feast on the souls of the recently captured, Sualk was very patient. Despite his hatred towards daemon kind, greater daemons were somewhat useful in his schemes.

" _I cannot believe that you would risk both of our skins just for some petty action._ " Aetozar grumbled. Sualk glanced at the black blade, that lie in front of him, and shushed it.

"Silence…" He mumbled. He looked up, finally seeing that the Bloodthirster was done. Now, it's feral gaze slowly turned towards the lone human.

" _ **Rise.**_ " It grumbled. Sualk did as he was told. The Bloodthirster began to emerge itself out of the bloody pool that it had been submerged in for weeks. Claws grasped the shrines that provided it sustenance, as it slowly pulled itself up. It reared its bestial maw, letting out a hiss.

"My most gracious master of masters…" He mumbled.

" _ **Enough. I assume you did not wake me up to grovel at my hooves.**_ " The Bloodthirster hissed. Sualk nodded his head.

"You are correct. I awoke you, for I seek the Skull Takers favor. This world, and all worlds deserve his ruinous touch. The skulls of the fallen, to be placed amongst his throne of bone." He explained. The Bloodthirster glared at him hard. Leathery batwings spread out from its ruinous flesh, while its corrupted bronze and brass armor shined brightly in the shrines glow. In its hands, was a massive axe roughly the size of its body, and a long and barbed whip that silently crawled along the floor, moving like a sentient organism. The Bloodthirster growled, as it suddenly snatched Sualk from the ground. Holding him in his tight grip, he raised it up to his nose. Sualk was disgusted, as the Bloodthirster sniffed him. Its nostrils inhaled his scent, before promptly exhaling.

" _ **You seem like a mortal… but you are more daemon then man…**_ " It grumbled. It then dropped him to the ground, letting him catch his breath.

" _ **What… are you?**_ " It grumbled, as it stood to its full height, towering over him. Sualk gulped. He was starting to regret his decision.

"I am a mere servant of chaos, seeking glory and rapture in our gods service." He replied in turn.

" _ **I think you lie. You shall tell me the truth, or I shall squash you like the insect that you are.**_ " The Bloodthirster roared in response, crushing a shrine with a massive claw. Sualk winced at such sacrilege, watching the blessed stone fall to pieces.

"Very well… I must ask you something…"

/

"So how are you holding up?" Jaina asked softly, as she entered Klaus's tent. The guardsman rolled his eyes. Jaina was a sweet woman, but her idealism… by god emperor, she acted like a child half the time.

"Fine, though I wish the recovery period wasn't so… long." He mumbled, slowly pulling himself up. The salve worked well enough, and now he could somewhat move without worry of ripping his stitches.

"You should rest. From what I heard, you had it pretty rough." She explained, sitting right next to him. Klaus raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"From who?" He asked.

"Bluddflagg." She said in return. Klaus took in a deep breath, filled with both relief and disappointment. On one hand, he was both surprised and happy that the ork survived. On the other hand, Bluddflagg was alive. Yet another sour note.

"And how is he recovering?" He asked. He didn't need an answer, as the ork suddenly barged in.

"Oi! Humie! Yer aloive! Dats gud, I didn't wanna cancel me contract and kill da lot of ya." The ork said, grinning happily. He was a lot more scarred then he remembered, even though he didn't exactly look that different. What was most important that his armor was basically gone. Most of it was destroyed and in tatters. Without proper maintenance (let alone any) he obviously had a problem. He was not protected, at all. The only 'protection' he really had was his greatcoat, and that would do very little.

"Yea I know, I know. I got naff arma, but dat aint a problem! I'm gonna get sum noice new kit, roight and propa!" He guffawed. He gave them both a tip of his hat, before he promptly left. The two humans blinked, before they looked back at each other.

"Where did you get the fleet?" He asked then, glancing back at Jaina. The sorceress sighed, clasping her hands together.

"Diplomacy, and politics. Lots, and lots of politics. Legion did most of the work. I just made sure that he didn't lost… its… nerve." She said. Klaus smirked.

"I understand. I'm just happy that I won't have to fight them alone." He simply said.

"You never will." She replied in turn. Klaus glanced at her, smirking slightly. He was waiting for the day when she finally had a more pragmatic view on the world. Maybe then, he could tolerate her discussions. However, he wanted to ask something first. Something that had been gnawing on his bones for a decent amount of time.

"Say… Jaina. How did you become ruler of Theramore?" He asked, glancing at her. She glanced at him, narrowing her eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" She demanded. Klaus sighed, scratching the back of his head.

"I simply noticed that during my stay in Theramore that I noticed no ruling dictatorship nor monarchy. I also did not notice that you have a very organized military or a law force guarded by an autocratic leadership. Did you earn your rule over your people via military conquest? Political sabotage? Assassination?" He asked, glancing back at her. She was horrified by what he said.

"No, no, and no. I did not kill anyone… i'm… i'm not their ruler either." She began to explain, but Klaus cut her off.

"They look up to you in times of trouble and need, and from what I have gathered, you are the only semblance of government or leadership. Perhaps you don't realise it, but you are a political figure, and in times of war, such figures need protection." He added on. Jaina was still confused.

"Where are you going with this?" She demanded. Klaus smirked.

"I'm asking… do you need a bodyguard?" He asked.

"A what?"

"Bodyguard. You know, someone to test your food, drink some poison, kill some assassins." He explained, trailing off. "I don't know what else a bodyguard could do. Test for blanks?"

"I don't… listen, I-"

"Another question, if you don't mind. Why do you always show your midsection?" He asked politely. Jaina, was starting to get angry.

"Excuse me?!" She growled. Klaus blinked.

"I mean no offence, I merely ask. Even in this frostbitten weather, you insist on wearing clothing that provides no protection. I can't vouch for comfortability, bu-"

"Why are you asking." She grumbled. Klaus smirked, glancing at her.

"Are you attracted to me?" He asked. Jaina froze, her cheeks turning rosy.

"I uh… no."

"You sure?

"No- I mean, yes."

"I mean, I harbinge no negative thoughts against you. However, if you would wish to engage in such a relationship, then I would be willing."

"That's not what I-" She mumbled, pausing then. She gave him a sideways glare, before sighing heavily.

"That's not what I came here for." She said. Klaus raised an eyebrow.

"What did you come here for?"

"Lofn wanted me to ask you a question, a question that Lofn was… uncomfortable to ask you." She said. Klaus furrowed his eyebrows. Too cowardly to ask such a question herself, it seemed.

"I hardly believe that you came here only to ask a question."

"I didn't." She said, glaring at him. Klaus blinked, before he took in a deep intake of breath.

"Let's hear it." He grumbled. He was prepared for something very private or secretive she would not dare to ask. He was wrong.

"She wanted to know if you hated her." Jaina mumbled.

"I-" He said, pausing then. "I…" He said, sighing heavily. He clenched his face in one hand, his nails pressing into his skin.

"Emperor dammit." He said, whispering softly. They were both silent for a moment, Jaina simply watching as he tore himself apart mentally.

"I… I want too. I want to despise her, to loathe her. She ripped my mind apart. She ruined me. But at the same time… she made me see things… differently." He grumbled, each word spat out between clenched teeth.

"Every time I look at her, I feel… happy. I actively seek for her betterment and protection. I cant comprehend being without her." He added on. He sighed. This moan was filled with guilt and loathing. Klaus hated himself. He hated himself so, so, so much. He just wanted to be back to the man he was.

"My beliefs are corrupted by what she has done. I may think of her fondly, but I will never forget what she did to my mind..." He said, trailing off. A hand was placed on his shoulder. He glanced up, glancing at Jaina

"Klaus… I… I need to tell you a story." She mumbled.

/

 _Several years earlier_

/

Jaina Proudmoore, apprentice of Antonidas and sorceress of the Kirin Tor was very concerned. She stood with Prince Arthas Menethil, crown to the throne of Lordaeron. They had known each other for years. Their relationship however, was strained. The events of the plague of undeath had spread rampant across the lands of Lordaeron. She had already witnessed many fall to the plague, only to rise to slaughter their fellows. She had been sent by her master, and to an extent, the city of Dalaran, to investigate the plague. So far, she had found nothing good.

Together, she and Arthas had fought several battles against this blighted scourge. She loved him, but had begun to fear him at the same time. In his heart, she could sense… darkness. It was subtle, but it was noticeable. His carefree and joyful tone had turned more dark and menacing. He often ignored the people he was supposed to protect, far more focused on defeating his enemies.

She focused back on reality, as the two saw Uther enter the camp. Paladin of the Silver Hand, the old but powerful man radiated holiness and virtue. He was covered in blessed armor, carrying a large warhammer that he had rested on his shoulder. However, despite his ranking and power, most of the men of the army of Lordaeron were loyal to Arthas. Afterall, he was the son of the king. Jaina was happy to see the Paladin. Arthas, not so much.

"Glad you could make it… Uther." Arthas grumbled, a hint of venom in his voice. The stoic Uther faltered slightly, glaring at the prince.

"Watch your tone with me, boy." The paladin growled, before lowering his voice. "You may be the prince, but I'm still your superior as a paladin." He added on. Arthas rolled his eyes. Jaina was surprised. The two were normally very happy to see each other. Not so much.

"As if I could forget." Arthas grumbled. He began to walk up a hill, to see the city of Stratholme itself.

"Listen, Uther, there's something about the plague you should know…" He mumbled.

"Oh no. It's too late. These people have all been infected. They may look fine now, but it's a matter of time before they turn into the undead." He then declared aloud, attracting the attention of many of his soldiers. Jaina stared at the prince, as he turned around to face the crowd.

"WHAT?!" Uther roared, stepping out of the crowd in defiance. The prince glared at him, his hands clenching his warhammer hard.

"The entire city… must be purged." He declared aloud. There was silence. Jaina was shocked. Uther, was furious.

"How can you even consider that?! There's got to be some other way!" He roared aloud. Paladins were trained to protect the innocent and destroy the wicked. Not to destroy both.

"Damn it, Uther. As your future king, I order you to purge this city." Arthas growled. The two men stared at each other. Hard. They were only several feet away from each other, and Jaina was half expecting them to fight each other in a battle of fisticuffs. No such thing happened.

"You are not my king yet, boy. Nor would I obey that command if you were!" Uther snapped back. Arthas was quiet, before he spoke; his voice trembling in hatred and anger.

"Then I must consider this an act of treason." Arthas spat. Uther gasped, before he growled in anger.

"TREASON? Have you lost your mind Arthas!" Uther growled. Arthas glared right at him, before looking at Jaina. The childhood friend that she once knew. She saw no more.

"Have I? Lord Uther, by my right of succession and sovereignty of my crown, I hereby relieve you from your command and suspend your paladins from service." Arthas commanded. This was too much. Finally, she spoke.

"Arthas, you can't just-"

"It is done! Those of you who have the will to save this land, follow me." He proclaimed, before he looked right at the Paladin.

"The rest of you... get out of my sight." He commanded. Uther was furious, but even he could not disobey such a command. The paladins and warriors loyal to the Silver Hand began to leave, marching away into the gloomy forest beyond.

"You just crossed a terrible threshold, Arthas." The paladin growled, spitting the prince's name like the most vile of curses. Uther turned around and left, giving Jaina a glance as he went by. Jaina glanced back at Arthas, before she too turned away.

"Jaina?" Arthas said, softly and sadly. She could not turn to look at him.

"I'm… I'm sorry Arthas. I can't… I can't watch you do this." She replied. She left the prince, who was slowly falling into madness. An ironic fate. He wished to protect his people, but he would slaughter them just to achieve such a goal.

/

"So what happened next?"

"He killed them. He murdered hundreds of innocent people, burned the entire city to rubble, left the streets like a charnel house." She said gravely.

"Then he took what men he had left, and went to Northrend to kill the dreadlord responsible for the plague. Mal'ganis. When he returned…" She mumbled, leaving the sentence on dry air.

"Arthas Menethil is the Lich King. Isn't he." Klaus asked. Jaina was quiet for a few moments.

"Yes. Yes he is." She said quietly. Klaus gave her a sideways glance.

"Why did you tell me this story?"

"I don't want you end up like him. You are blinded by your zeal and faith to the point where I'm scared that you might become the thing you despise the most." She replied.

"I would never turn on my kind." He grumbled.

"Did Horus?" She replied. Klaus was silent.

"You have serious guts to say something like that."

"I don't want to lose another friend. Not like I lost him. He didn't listen to me when I say this, I hope you will. Klaus." She said, holding his hand.

"Don't let your ideologies blind you. Faith is strong, but too much faith will lead you down a dark path." She said. Klaus was quiet.

"I have to go." She whispered, as she stood up, and walked to the exit of the tent. She glanced back at him.

"I'll be back." She added on, as she left, leaving Klaus to his thoughts.

/

Sylvanas Windrunner was watching Legion extremely carefully, as the leaders of both the Alliance and the Horde met in a secluded area. They all sat around hastilly readied war room, using a large amount of tents to cover themselves. Sitting around this table from left to right was Thrall, Cairne ,Saurfang, herself, Vol'jin, Garrosh, Lor'themar, a young woman she did not know, Tyrande, Muradin, Varian, Jaina, Tirion, and finally, Legion himself. The dark and insidious creature casted a fierce, withering, burning glare that finally silenced the last quarrel between Varian and Garrosh, no doubt the more zealous of the bunch.

Sylvanas was intrigued by the… being. No doubt that it was not natural on this plane, and must have came along with the rest of the 'foreigners' as Thrall had called them. It was not living nor dead, and existed within the physical plane but flickered in and out of reality. She had to admit, she was quite impressed by what the being managed to pull off. It played the game of politics well, managing not only to bring hated enemies together for a common goal, but did it without killing people.

Her blood red eyes never came off the shadowy figure, as finally it stood up, and spoke. When it spoke, a raspy and whispery voice came out of the gate on its helmet, a voice that was soft and harsh.

"It is nice to know that everyone here has been accounted for." Legion announced. Garrosh Hellscream snorted, staring right at Varian.

"It is nice to know I won't have to see scum like HIM for long." Garrosh growled, giving a hateful stare right at Varian. Varian growled in anger, slowly rising, before Legion gave him a withering stare. Varian sat down, but not before mumbling a curse to the orc, just loud enough for him to hear. The ruddy colored orc snarled, but didn't say anything.

"You have all been united for one cause. One goal. One purpose. To defeat the greatest enemy you have ever seen. I have heard great stories of your bravery. Stemming the demon horde of the third war." Legion began, gesturing to both Thrall and Jaina, who were both present during the Battle of Hyjal. "I have heard of your bravery to defy your demonic masters." He said, then gesturing to Thrall and Saurfang, who both had slain their own fair share of demons." I know well of how you sacrificed nearly everything to prevent the worlds end." Legion continued, glancing at Tyrande, who had prevented the summoning of Sargeras nearly 10,000 years ago. "I know of how despite the odds, despite the foe, and despite the condition, you have all succeeded against the impossible. You fought for your people's freedom, you fought for their survival, and like it or not, you are all the same." Legion continued, as he began to pace around the table, his speech filling the wary with confidence.

"You may be different in nearly every way, but you all have one thing in common. One thing so important, that it can defy even the grimmest of situations. Hope." He grumbled.

"With hope, you can achieve anything. You can climb the highest of mountains, brave the fiercest of storms, and defeat the most powerful of enemies." He added on. He stopped then, standing right behind Garrosh. He took a breath, before he continued.

"I will not lie to you. The enemy you face will be difficult. It will be like nothing youve ever faced. Many will die in the coming weeks." He mumbled, as he continued to pace around the table.

"You all know the price of war. Whether you have seen it or…" He said, trailing off. He was glancing right at the Banshee Queen. A simultaneous creaking from the multitude of chairs was heard, as most of the faction leaders glared right at her. Sylvanas was not amused, but she kept her face neutral.

"Experienced it." He finished. He finally sat down at his seat, scooching in.

"I hope we are all together in this." He added on. There was a period of silence, before an simultaneous grumble came out. Sylvanas didn't exactly hate anyone at the meeting, besides Garrosh, but she knew that definitely could not be said for anyone else.

"Then let us begin planning. We know that the chaos encampment is somewhere south to the Citadel of Ice." He said, as he began to unfurl a large map, spreading it along the table.

"Letting them have a fortified position is a poor move. They would slaughter us." Thrall grumbled. Legion nodded.

"I am aware. I know their leader. A bloodthirster, by the name of Ka'bandha. I will issue a challenge, that he cannot refuse."

"How would you know?" Saurfang asked. Legion glared at him.

"Him and I have unfinished business. The daemon will be eager to settle the score." He simply replied.

"A grudge in the making eh? That'll be fun to watch." Muradin said dryly. Sylvanas set her glare on the dwarf king, if only temporarily. She thought that little stunt was dead. Then, almost dreamily, she looked upon the being of darkness. It was like a dream come true. Her hatred and angst was almost made manifest. Now, she was only concerned with one thing. Control. She had a few ideas.

"What of the undead? And the Lich King?" Tirion asked. Legion was quiet for a few moments.

"To feed the undead an army would only bolster their numbers." Tirion stated. Sylvanas spoke up.

"Then perhaps, a tactical strike squad to be inserted within Icecrown. My army can hold them off, but I would need help." She stated.

"I could teleport the team into the Citadel, but I won't be able to help all that much. I must conserve as much energy as I can to defeat the greater daemon." Legion grumbled.

"Perhaps I could assist them. The Ashbringers magic could put quite the hurt." Tirion suggested, holding up the mighty blade. The mere sight of the light made Sylvanas shrink back, feeling its holy rays burn on her skin.

"Perhaps, but there's still the issue of the hordes of demons and… chaos." Garrosh growled.

"That there is." Legion said. Only with his stern glare, could he keep authority over the warleader's. She knew that without him here, four of them would be dead in at least thirty seconds. Finally, the Warchief spoke. From what she heard, Thrall and Legion weren't exactly friends, after he threatened to quite literally wipe all life on Azeroth if he did not comply.

"If what you say is true, then I have an idea." Thrall announced. Everyone was quiet, glancing at the warchief.

"The Forsaken and an alliance army could provide a distraction for the undead, while Legion could teleport the squad into Icecrown, while the rest of us lure the chaos army out of their base. Legion can join us in defeating their leader." Thrall suggested. There was silence.

"I don't understand why we must give you such privileges. I doubt you defeat such a demon lord, as how you described him earlier." Garrosh growled. Legion chuckled, looking at the orc.

"Dare to challenge me?" Legion asked in return. Garrosh was eager to accept, when Saurfang and Thrall growled at him in orcish tongue, making him sit down.

"Still… we have much more to discuss…"

/

Nice of Uncle WAAAGH! to update his shit, eh Luigi?


	83. Chapter 82: Darkest Days

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So here is a chapter. It is rather short, but I just wanted to get this out now, since I was feeling pretty ill.

I have the whole week off from school, so I will try to get you a new, much larger chapter.

Anyways, enjoy.

Jaina never really understood Klaus, from the first day that she met him. He was both kind and malevolent. Cheerful yet pessimistic. Understanding and Ignorant. He was happy to achieve world peace, if not by genocide. He was so interesting and fascinating on the inside, yet so hideous and revolting to look at. When she could, she would always ask about where he came from. She would ask about the empire he served, the men and women he worked with, and the daily challenges he had to go through. She felt two emotions when she talked to him, or even looked at him. She felt both pity and disgust.

She was disgusted by the fact that he was everything she hated, made manifest. He was incredibly speciest, to the point that even the loonies in the Scarlet Crusade might just be offended themselves. He admitted to using torture, murder, arson, and genocide. He didn't flinch at all, when he talked about how he and several squadmates burned down an entire orphanage, and everyone in it, because one of them had been infected with something called 'genestealers' or whatever it was. He admitted to being part of firing squads to soldiers who fled or even wavered in their ability to act. In fact, he seemed to _enjoy_ recalling such brutal and horrific events. One time he even chuckled so much, he was unable to speak about how he slaughtered both a 'heretic' and his 'family', just for being in close proximity to the enemy. He snorted, barely being able to speak about how he almost ripped off the father's head off with a bayonet, or how he 'blew out the brains' of both the mother and their three children, and then finally about how he set the explosive charges to destroy the house, where the final child _a baby_ , was still alive. Apparently, the joke was that he and a group of guardsmen were ambushing the same 'heretics' that were trying to rescue them, only to finish the job for them… She hated him for everything he stood and worked for.

And yet… she pitied him. She felt sorrow for the fact that the… _government_ he both worked and fought for had turned him into this… monstrosity. She hated the fact that he was so suicidal and fanatical in his beliefs, he even planned out exactly just how he wanted to meet his end. He was so stuck in his belief that his death is a must, that he couldn't even explain why. Whenever she asked about it, he just replied 'to repay for my sins.' When she asked further, he didn't say anything else. She felt pity for this… monster..

As she listened to him recall what happened the past week, she couldn't help but feel… Actually, she didn't know what to feel. Period. From what he recalled, Jaina could establish pretty easily that Klaus well… wasn't in the best mental health.

Throughout his story he paused, whispering things to both sides of his shoulder. Jaina dismissed it the first time it happened. She couldn't do it the second. Or third. Or seventh. She also couldn't help that at random, he simply blanked out. However, what was worse was the… itching.

Every ten minutes or so, he would pause his story to scratch the back of his head. Sometimes, it was for a few seconds. One lasted for an entire minute, and even now, she could see the blood that was dripping from the back of his skull, slowly tracing around his neck and onto the collar of his coat.

"What's wrong Jaina? You seem… distressed." Klaus asked, finally bringing the sorceress out of her thoughts. He was giving her an odd look.

"Nothing, just thinking." She replied in turn. Klaus raised an eyebrow, but nevertheless he continued.

"After that, Lofn managed to rescue me. I didn't have much time left, but you and the rest of the fleet showed up. Just, in time." He said, grumbling slightly at the last part.

"Klaus, I want to ask you something. One last time, before I go." Jaina asked. Klaus glanced at her, slightly confused.

"Go ahead…" He mumbled. Jaina looked at him hard, for a good twenty seconds, before she asked her question. One that had been burning in her mind for a fairly good amount of time.

"Do you have any regrets, for the things that you have done?" She asked. Klaus didn't say anything for a few seconds.

"No. Not really." He replied in turn.

"Like, at all? For the past whole year, if you had to relive it, would you do it?"

"Yes." He simply said. Jaina simply nodded, as she took her staff, and began to leave, before a hand caught hers. She paused, glancing down at Klaus.

"Don't leave. Please. I don't want to be lonely. Not now, anyways." He said in return. Jaina was surprised. He was… begging. Almost. She knew that he wouldn't admit it, but she could see it his eyes. He didn't want to be alone. He explained why.

"I know my death comes soon. While I still live on this world, I want to spend my time with people I am comfortable with. You, for example." He admitted, a guilty tone lingering his voice. Jaina's cheeks reddened. She had duties to attend too… but she could stick around for another hour or so.

/

"That utter bitch! That, two faced whore, that spineless little-"

"Listen twig, I fink yer gettin a bit uh… hot headed, bout dis."

Lofn whipped around, giving the warboss such a withering and piercing glare, that the warboss flinched slightly.

"Roight, roight. I guess I'm listenin." The ork grumbled.

"I didn't spend, month after month warming him up, just for him to go… renegade on me!"

"Yoo wurked on dis?"

"Yes! Even before this entire thing began, I had to spend days researching anything I was provided on him. I spent hour after hour, researching interests, skills, strengths, weaknesses, anything and everything, I was forced to study and learn..." She hissed, as she frantically paced around the ork, who was busy trying to bribe a group of dwarf smiths to get him some good armor. Using what little money he had (and what money he nicked from Klaus, when he wasn't looking) he was trying to buy the biggest pieces of kit he could get his grubby paws on.

"Well. Dats a bit creepy." He mumbled in return.

"Its… its not creepy!"

"Totally is mate. If yer denying it, den dat makes it even more creepy." Bluddflagg said.

"Its… is… is it?"

"Listen Lofn. Yoo got yerself into dis mess. Ya did sumfin dat yoo shouldn't, and now everyone zoggin hates ya."

"Who is everyone?"

"Well da rea- actually nevamoind. Point is, yoo got both yoo and Klaus into dis zoggin mess. Now, yoo gotta get him outta it." He explained. He glanced at him, and then sighed.

"Lissen. Da humie probably finks dat he aint got dat much toime left. I dun fink so eitha. So while ya still got toime left… tell him how ya feel. Ya know? Truly." He stated firmly. Lofn sighed heavily.

"I'm not sure if I could."

"Lissen. If ya need help, I'll be right there." He said, giving the eldar a toothy grin. Lofn winced in disgust, looking at those disgusting teeth, particularly the incisors, which were stained red. However, she understood what he meant. The time they had left might be closing. She should state how she felt, before it was too late.

"Thanks… I will… I will tell him how I feel, soon." She said, sensing that the human… was still in there. Bluddflagg nodded, glancing at the dwarfs.

"Now lissen. How bout, I chip in dis here helmet-" He said, pulling out a shiny helmet that he no doubt robbed off someone's corpse. "And in return, ya make me a noice suit of arma."

"Get lost." One of the dwarfs shouted in reply. The ork growled in anger, almost about kick the dwarf all the way to the moon, when Lofn intervened, simply putting a large sack of coins on the table.

"Make the ork a suit of armor." She replied sweetly. She ignored a whistle that was released in her direction, followed by a couple of loud chuckles.

"You'll have it in no time." One of them said, presumably the leader. The dwarfs then began to herd Bluddflagg towards the temporary smithing station. Lofn was severely concerned, but finally obliged, leaving the ork to (hopefully) get fitted. Without, anyone getting killed.

/

Unkle slowly let out a whistle, as he slowly yet surely pushed a cart around in the dark halls of his lair. In particular, one of the new… 'subjects' that he purchased, was strapped onto it.

From what he gathered from the slave masters, Karasira was a Dark Eldar Trueborn, once a powerful and (somewhat) noble Archon. However, she had been defeated by her rival (her brother, believe it or not) and had been thrown into the life of slavery. In a way, she reminded him of himself. Of course, he really didn't like to talk about where HE came from, but…

He glanced down at the elf, giving her a nightmarish grin. She was still fighting to get out of the metal chains and locks that had secured her tightly, though she should have realized that even an hour ago, their was very little; if any chance of her escaping.

"I will never be your slave." She hissed at him in her own language. The ork smirked, replying in kind.

"You neva were supposed ta be. Nah… I got far better ideas with you." He replied, grinning again. His cracked, leathery flesh split apart, revealing his yellowed and aged teeth. Tendrils of fungus and flesh wrapped around his tusks, growths further extending out of his body. The woman recoiled in disgust at the sight of this, as the ork adjusted his hat, continuing to stroll her forward.

"Well… fink about it loike dis. Yoo aint gonna end up loike da others." He added on. Unkle did not pay attention to the confused look the archon gave him, simply raising an eyebrow. Finally, they approached a massive door, nearly thirty feet in length. The ork stepped aside, and walked up to the side of the gate, pulling out a small card. He stuck it into a hole in the wall, before he promptly took it out. Slowly, the rusty and creaky metal doors opened wide, revealing a room full of inky darkness. Unkle walked to the back of the cart, and slowly pushed the woman inside. It was completely pitch black, and Unkle fumbled with a lighter, looking for a way to turn on the lights.

"Hold on a second, just gotta foind dis bloody fing…" He mumbled. Then finally, with a flick of his fingers, the room was basked in dark red, as emergency lights flooded the room, revealing a nightmarish scene, that could barely be described by rational words.

In the vast room, where machines, corpses, and chains. From the roof of the room, hung tens of thousands of bodies. Karasira eye's widened slightly. Mon-keigh, Greenskins, Eldar, Tyranids, Tau, even species she could not recognise, were suspended by thousands of hooks and chains. Many of them were still, but some still moved. Some of them, were still alive.

The 'workers' in the room were all human. Karasira found it… odd, that they were all wearing the same thing. A starch black and grey suit from the neck to the ankle, but their bodies were mutilated beyond comprehension. Many of them were more machine than flesh, pieces of metal and electronics bolted haphazardly to their bodies.

She also could not help but notice the dozen of glass vats that littered the room, filled with tanks of green and yellow liquid. What was inside these vats were… indescribable. Thrashing and writhing pieces of flesh, bone, and fur moved within these tanks, beating at the walls and opening their mouths to scream, only swallowing more of the fluid inside the tanks.

"Oi! Gits! Get dis one ova to da table. Da noice one." He barked, while he walked over to a massive shelf that spanned for nearly twenty feet, filled with bottles, and large pieces of surgery.

The so called 'Gits' shambled over in nearly a group of twenty, and all began to push the cart along in the darkness.

' _What in the warp… is this place?_ ' She thought to herself, looking around in disgust. Clearly, the ork had been taking notes from some haemonculus. The orks servants shouldn't even be alive but yet, they still were. It made sense. There was no way the greenskin could run the entire station by himself. He called this place 'abandoned'. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the 'abandoned' station still had the crew. What was left of them.

She growled in disgust, noting that some of them were drooling on her beautiful, almost demigod like frame. These filthy creatures were ruining her simply by their mere presence. One of them in particular disgusted her the most, the one that was disrobing her. Almost its entire head had been removed, instead replaced with a large metal block that almost pulled the skin on its skull, draping it backward to reveal the decaying muscle and bone underneath. Its teeth had long rotted away, leaving only yellow and bleeding gums. It then mumbled something, letting out a loud gurgle. The flesh on its throat peeled away, and it was then Karasira noticed the dozens of tubes that originated from the metal block on its head. Chemicals were pumped from the block into the tubes, which then flowed into central parts of its cavity, like its exposed ribcage or its almost nonexistent lower torso, which was only kept intact by a piece of skin so thin she could probably slice it open with a swipe of her finger nail.

The creatures rolled her in front of a large glass chamber, where another abomination awaited them. It was a spider like creature, almost ten feet tall. It had six legs, all made from metal and pieces of scrap, while its torso was a corpse white flesh. Karasira then noticed the four soulstones embedded in its head, which peeled itself apart like a flytrap. She recoiled in disgust, then realizing that this… thing was of eldar blood. The souls, kept alive in torture and agony, as she swiftly realized that they were not bright, symbolizing their death. They still lived... They reminded them of Wracks, creations made by haemonculus, something that she was never exactly fond of. Wracks were made voluntarily. She could not say the same for these… things.

The Block Headed thing let out a stream of gurgles, looking up at the spider beast. The spider beast peered into her, four pairs of milky white eyes peering into her very soul. It let out a low rumble, as the door to the chamber opened up. They pushed her into it, as the door closed behind her. The creatures then surrounded the walls of the chamber, pressing their malformed and mutated faces into the glass, smearing saliva, blood, pus, and other bodily fluids onto the clear glass.

She would not allow herself to become one of these things. In her belt, was a poisoned dagger. If she could just get it out, and slice her own throat, she could at least keep herself safe from becoming these… things. She tested her metallic bonds, trying to find any source of weakness. She found it, after a couple of minutes of gently thrashing around. The clamps that secured her left hand were somewhat rusty. If she could force enough pressure into the clamp, she could be able to break it.

Slowly yet surely, she clawed at the rusty bolts that held her in place. Finally, they popped off with a 'clink'. Just in time, for the ork to arrive. She faked that the she was still held by the bonds, as he opened the glass door, nodding at the two abominations that flanked him.

He was pushing a large table full surgery tools and syringes. He was wearing white overalls and a facemask, along with a small mirror and spotlight, that he had attached to his skull with a bandana. There was also a large box of what could be bandages, that had… smiling yellow faces on them. He also carried a large bucket filled with water.

"Roight, lemme just sterilize real quick, and we can get dis show on da road." He said, reaching into the bucket to wash his hands. The ork didn't have enough time to react. The Dark Eldar lunged forward, plunging her knife right into the orks throat. He let out a gurgle, as she pounced on top of him, tearing out his throat with both the dagger and her own hands. Blood splurted all over her, as she continued to tear the ork's throat and head apart. She let out an angry and hateful scream, as finally, she carved into his chest, and ripped out his heart. She then threw it to the ground, smashing it with her bare feet. Her exposed body was covered in the orks ichor, as she slowly rose up. Only to see… another, ork. The same, ork. That was the last thing she saw, before a punch right to the jaw knocked her out cold.

/

Also holy shit, has anyone else seen the Battle of Azeroth Cinematic Trailer?

That shit was lit

Seriously, go watch it.


	84. Chapter 83: The Other Side

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So here is the chapter. This was co written by my bucko, Dmunch.

We had a lot of fun writing this

(and you will see why)

This would have been a bit longer, but I wanted to get this out to you now, and not make you wait.

Anyways, enjoy.

As night began to fall, Klaus was simply lying on the ground. The harsh chill bit down on his skin and his nerves, as he just shriveled himself up underneath his blanket. His breathing was coarse and rough, pain still blossoming in his lungs from his injuries.

"It feels too… peaceful." Grenadier Klaus mumbled quietly. Klaus glanced at the mini guardsman.

"What does?"

"This. Everything really. The forces of chaos have been here for quite awhile, but they haven't really done anything. What are they waiting for?"

"To muster more forces perhaps." Priest Klaus said from his side. Klaus grumbled.

"I'm fine with them not doing much." He simply added on. Grenader Klaus growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm not." Grenadier Klaus grunted. The three of them were silent, before Grenadier Klaus spoke up.

"Do we still have it?" He asked. Klaus and Priest Klaus glanced at Grenadier Klaus, both being rather confused.

"Have what?"

"The book. That book that… whoever it was, left us. The thing that 'we' took." He grumbled, practically spitting 'we' with enough venom to kill a Hierophant. Clearly, he still wasn't very happy about what had happened there. Klaus wasn't entirely satisfied either.

"We do…" Klaus mumbled, as he slowly sat up, reaching into his sack. He pulled out the large book, putting it down on his knees. He slowly opened it, still expecting something bad to happen.

They had already read the first page, and flipped onward. Klaus paused for a moment, squinting at the piece of parchment that followed.

It was old and aged, almost yellow. It was not part of the book, allowing Klaus to simply pull it out without worry. The text on it was in High Gothic, but it felt so… wrong.

"What does it say?" Priest Klaus asked quietly, the two sub consciousnesses huddling up to their host. Klaus squinted some more, reading it.

"To those who dream in the brightest days and in the darkest of nights, the order serves all." Klaus translated, and then, his vision went black.

/

The haze of the dream and indistinct noises slowly gave way to clearer sights and sounds. Shouted orders for grenadier units to form up were familiar to Klaus, and for a second he thought he was witnessing something from his own past or a possible future. But then that was dispelled when he caught sight of the markings on the troopers around him armor; it was indeed the Imperial Aquila, but on the tear shaped section was the eight pointed star.

The voice of the officer broke his internal musing: "Alright you scum, listen up! The artillery from the 30th Siege Regiment has broken a hole in the defenses around the capital! The first waves of mercenary filth and our Astartes Brethren have failed to secure the breach! By the Lord, they tried, but they failed. That's why we are here! We're going in before the God Lord damned traitors can seal the breach! Expect resistance from the traitorous 20th Vraks Heavy Infantry Regiment, and possibly Marines who have turned from the dark embrace of the God Lord and the Four. Show no mercy!" The officer roared, holding up a strange fusion of a weapon that appeared to be part volkite and part bolter, with a good chainsaw bayonet thrown into the mix.

A roar of approval met that declaration, and the soldiers charged forward, but despite observing the actions of his chaos corrupted counterparts with disdain and contempt, Klaus' mind was elsewhere. Vraks, it was an infamous world in his universe's version of the Imperium, it had betrayed the Imperium, and fallen to the taint of Chaos. But if what he had heard was right, then this version of Vraks was trying to REBEL against Chaos.

Something that boggled his mind, for as far as he had learned in his time serving the Imperium, Chaos' taint was something near impossible to shrug off after millennia of service to the "Dark Gods." But he would reserve his judgement until he saw one way or the other.

The anti-Kriegers charged forward ferociously, crying aloud things that should never leave the lips of a son of Krieg. The cry of "The God Lord will direct our wrath, and I shall deliver it!" Being most common, along with god specific ones, like "For the rot of Nurgle!" or "Blood for the blood god!" The hundreds of anti-Kriegers were barging straight into the gunline, almost expecting to be slaughtered.

Massed las rifle and bolt fire tore into the ranks of the advancing Chaos forces, some dropped from the firepower arrayed against them, but many more shrugged off the fire like it was nothing more than rain. Then they were amongst the defenders, and for once, Klaus felt nothing but pity for a traitor.

Power bayonets, chain axes, and other melee weapons dealt lethal blows. The Vrakian soldiery were no match for these killers, but they showed more courage and bravery than Klaus would have expected. But even with bravery that many loyalists would be envious of, they were forced to give ground, being pushed back into the streets of the city. In the first few moments of the assault, already hundreds of the defenders were butchered, slaughtered. The guardsmen showed no signs of stopping. The dozens of demonically infused shock troopers were barreling down the city streets with speed faster than that of even Astartes. As a matter of fact, it seemed that THE ASTARTES were struggling to catch up. Klaus's vision was forced to swivel from side to side, seeing the insignia of both Word Bearers and Ultramarines.

Still the Chaos infused shock troops charged on, pushing forward and gunning down the organized retreat of the defenders. Until they hit one of the main squares. The defenders jumped behind a rubble barricade right as an old Malcador Infernus rolled into the square and

unleashed gallons of burning promethium onto the attackers. For a second, Klaus thought the advance had been stemmed, but then he heard not the cries of men, but daemonic screeches filled the air. Klaus was slightly confused, until he saw the maleficent black magic pooling from his hands and fingers, the flames connecting to the tip of the black blade.

The blade itself was small and narrow, almost looking like a long knife, but its jet black surface, with its glass; obsidian like texture proved otherwise. It barely looked like it could cut through flesh, but as Sualk quickly rose out of cover to decapitate a defender who was trying to toss a grenade further back, he was proved dead wrong.

The promethium from the ancient battle tank had not engulfed the grenadiers, but rather daemons summoned by Sualk to serve as mobile line of cover for his fellows. Several melta blasts struck the ancient tank, blowing holes in it and eventually causing a massive explosion. The explosion rocked the entire square, even shaking the seemingly unstoppable anti-Kriegers. Great plumes of red and blue flame coated the plaza, leaving dozens of men and women screaming in pain and agony, batting away the fires that melted away their skin and bones like gruel. Unfortunately, the Death Korps were still completely fine, being protected by a large bloody magical shield, cast by one of the guardsman who was dressed like a sorcerer.

Then they were among the few defenders in the plaza again, wrecking a bloody toll. But for once the melee did not go completely their own way. Soldiers in armor that Klaus had only glimpsed in historical documents on the Great Crusade; Solar Auxilia, stood their ground, stiffening the flagging resolve of the defenders and claiming a few anti-Krieger lives with close range high powered shots or, on a rare occasion, driving runic blades into their chaos foes.

Klaus silently cheered the traitors, but knew that they had no hope of winning. For every anti-Krieger slain in battle, another took its place. Even a few Astartes got involved into the mix, though they were quickly put down by the Solar Auxilia weapons; a fusion of what appeared to be plasma and volkite beams.

But it was not enough. Even with the Solar Auxilia providing support the defenders fell one by one until one dazed soldier was left alive. The officer of the anti-Kriegers unit came forward giving the Solar Auxilia a good kick in the stomach. He sent the trooper rolling away, as the officer revved up his bayonet, and plunged it into his neck. Arterial fluid sprayed his jet black coat, covering him in vital fluids, as he tore the Solar Auxilia's frame apart. Now none, were left standing. It was a grim repeat of the atrocities of the Gothic Wars.

A few laughs and jokes passed between the Grenadiers over how pathetic the defenders were, and how even more so the few that fell on their side were. They spat upon the bodies of their own fallen, one even going so far as to take a nice, long piss on the gibbed remains of their standard bearer. Despite being a Krieger himself, and knowing how cheap life was, Klaus felt nothing but cold disdain for these parodies of his kameraden.

"TO THE PALACE OF THE GOVERNOR! WE SHALL TEAR HIM LIMB FROM LIMB, AND TEACH HIM THE LESSON OF HIS FOLLY! TREASON WILL BE MET WITH DEATH!"

Then the vision shifted forward, how far he didn't know, but now they were at the courtyard of the the palace of the Governor. It had been fortified to the extreme. Barricades, trenches, and bunkers filled what was once a grand garden; covering each other with interlocking fields of fire. Already thousands of chaos forces, mostly mutants and regular army troopers, lay dead on the ground by the time the shock troopers arrived. They slowed to a crawl, looking around in confusion.

One of the Word Bearers snarled: "This stinks of the work of Perturabo's Children..." He was cut off when a las cannon round slammed into his head, vaporising the ancient warrior's head. Klaus felt his field of vision shift, and saw that indeed the Iron Warriors were there. A full squadron of "Havoc" marines wielding lascannons, with which they grimly proceeded to snipe the chaos attackers. "By the gods! Ambush!"

As a result there was no time to plan anything else out, every second a few followers of the God Lord fell. An all out charge was their only salvation, and so they charged, right into the waiting arms of the Vraksian guardsmen, who laid into them with heavy bolters and autocannons from the bunkers. It was a massacre, hundreds died quickly, and for a second Klaus held out hope that the defenders might yet win.

But as the Imperial saying goes "hope is the first step on the road to disappointment." The 'loyalists' ace up their sleeve was brought into play at this point, and Klaus felt his heart sink, even as Sualk's raced with delight. The cacophonic screaming that came from above revealed a massive, two headed Heldrake. The Heldrake slammed into the bunkers set up by the Iron Warriors, breathing a purple mix of hellfire and warp energy. Dozens died immediately, while dozens more were horrifically wounded. The Heldrake let out a wailing roar, as it slammed into the gate of the palace, bringing it down with but one swing of its oversized claws.

The sudden and violent appearance of the Daemonic warmachine threw the defenders off. The Iron Warriors were forced to refocus their fire on the flying monstrosity, allowing the attackers to deal with the mortal defenders of Vraks. By the time the Iron Warriors temporarily banished the beast back to the warp, it was too late, the defenses were in shambles.

As much as it no doubt pained the sons of Perturabo to retreat, they did indeed carry out a tactical withdrawal. By the time the chaos forces entered the palace properly, there was no sign of their untainted kin. Nothing but the dead of both loyalists and traitors scattered amongst the corridors. The officer let out a grin, as he wiped the soles of his boots on the plush carpet.

"To imagine that we let this traitor, this… heretic lounge in glory for so long saddens me. Still, we have a ruler to kill. Follow me men." He stated aloud. They walked forward confidently, as the palace guards and any Iron Warrior space marines that were left mounted their last stand outside of the governor's quarters. Lines of lasguns, bolters, plasma guns, volkite weapons, and even xenos weapons; pulse weapons and miniature gauss flayers from the Empire of the Rising Sun were pointed straight at the chaos line. However, the anti-Kriegers did not cower from this show of arms. In fact, they seemed to bathe in it. They knew that the so called 'traitors' time was short, and they would savor the feeling of ending it.

Once again, his vision shifted, and Klaus found himself watching the last moments of the siege of the palace, as Sualk's detachment of Kriegers burst in the sound of battle reached their ears. Unlike the coward who ruled Vraks in his own universe Klaus was glad to see the man showed a backbone that would put even some chaplains to shame. Armed with a ceremonial sword, and wearing no armor, he was dueling off against an anti-Krieger...and winning...on top of that there were dozens of Chaos Marines lying dead around the chamber. The duel was fast and ferocious, the governor kept the krieger on the back foot the entire time; before faking an attack, and decapitating the grenadier, a sergeant by his markings. Its body tumbled to the ground, while the Governor kicked the head aside, letting it roll away into the mass of the chaos forces. Klaus expected nothing but scorn, but to his surprise, the dozens of anti-Kriegers cheered the traitor on, giving him words of support and encouragement. It was almost as if they _wanted_ him to fight on. The Governor panted and heaved, as he looked at the now hundreds of chaos forces who were gathering within the stepped upon the dead bodies of his aides and bodyguards, desecrating their corpses with their filthy footsteps.

"COME ON YOU ANIMALS! KILL ME!" He roared aloud, his mouth spitting out both mucus and blood. Klaus felt Sualk walking forward, grinning eagerly. Sualk was ready to take this challenger on, and to prove his worth.

Unfortunately the swordsman would not live long to bask in his achievement or the praise of the chaos forces, as a bolt round cracked out. The governor looked at his gibbed torso for a moment and he fell with a content smile on his face. This enraged the attackers who had wanted to turn such a man to their side, as they scanned the area for who fired, a cold voice, transmitted by a suit of power armor's voice transmitter filled the air: "Slaves of the traitorous Emperor, you have failed your objective."

A raucous roar of anger came out from the chaos forces that had gathered within the palace, looking around wildly.

One of the Kriegers spat on the ground, a furious look in his face: "COWARD! STOP HIDING IN THE SHADOWS! SHOW YOURSELF!"

"With pleasure," the whining of servos from ancient power armor filled the air. From one of the alcoves, in figure in silvery blue armor emerged. On his shoulder was a marking Klaus was unfamiliar with, but from their armor and wargear, he was obviously whatever passed for a "loyalist" Astartes here. Of course, the definition of 'loyal' in this situation was very strained.

"Alpha Legion." One of the Ultramarines snarled, "of course carrion birds like you would be behind this."

A rueful chuckle escaped the figure. He was quiet for a moment, before he spoke "Indeed cousin. I just thought I would give you the courtesy to know that you failed, like your kind always will, because of my Legion...And now I bid you a 'good day,' and hope that one day you too will break free of the lies the Emperor spoke." He spat.

With a roar three Kriegers charged forward, attempting to kill the lone marine. But they were cut down in a heartbeat, two by a single sword swing from his left, and another by having his chest caved in by a thunder hammer wielded in the astarte's right hand. This seemed to cause Sualk a moment of hesitation, which surprised Klaus… From everything he knew of his dark doppelganger the man never backed down from a challenge. But then, the Captain of the detachment spoke in a shaky tone: "Y...you are Armillus Dynat..the Harrowmaster! Reports stated that Lord Erebus killed you centuries ago!" The Alpha Legionnaire was quiet for a few moments, before he began to chuckle and then something surprising happened...

Armillus laughed, out right LAUGHED at that: "Reports of my demise are GREATLY exaggerated. Now unless anyone else has a deathwish, I suggest you stand aside, NOW, before I get angry." With that the legionnaire turned on his heel and left, to the surprise and awe of Klaus, no one followed or attempted to stop the lone Marine… they simply took steps aside. Astartes, anti-Kriegers, and simple guardsmen all glared at the space marine, some mumbling underneath their breath. Eventually, the Legionnaire paused for a moment, giving Sualk a deadly side glare, before he continued forward.

Klaus' last sight before starting to wake was from the roof, watching through Sualk's eyes as a Stormraven the same color as the "Lupercalian" armor took flight, and then vanished under the influence of some invisibility device.

/

Lofn let out a sigh, taking in a deep breath of air before she exhaled. Today had been exhausting for her. She had to constantly juggle handling Bluddflagg (who almost went on a killing spree after he got into a _very_ heated debate with the same dwarfs she hired / convinced to forge him a new set of armor. They were arguing whether spikes were necessary. The dwarfs argued that spikes would make the armor harder to clean, and less aerodynamic. It would also make it more bulky, and less good at actually protecting the ork. The ork argued that the spikes would make him more fearful, and offered more room for trophies. They had been arguing for nearly twenty minutes about the science of protection, engineering, and killing. However Lofn, being the genius diplomat that she was smoothed out the relationship. She was fairly sure that Bluddflagg was still having a drinking contest with nearly a quarter of the alliance. She knew that his liver was something out of this world, but even she didn't think he could make it through without a good amount of alcohol poisoning.

She was tired, and she was drained. She walked into Klaus's tent, noting that Klaus was reading something.

"Hi Klaus." She mumbled, getting the guardsman to flinch out of his trance. He quickly put the book out of sight, getting her attention for at least a moment.

"Evening." He mumbled. He glanced outside, noticing that it was nearly pitch black, the only source of light being a lantern that was lit a couple of feet away.

"Well, more like night, but you know what I meant." Klaus added on. Lofn sighed heavily, sitting down right next to him. Obviously he was slightly uncomfortable, but after a couple of moments he settled down. Somewhat.

"I'm so tired." She admitted, leaning her head on his shoulder, sliding in slightly into his blanket. Klaus glanced at her for a few moments, sighing heavily.

"I won't try anything. If that's what you are thinking. I just want to rest." Lofn added on, already knowing what he was thinking. Literally. Klaus nodded, slowly wrapping his arm around her, squeezing her softly.

"I'm going to hate myself for saying this, but I'll miss you." Klaus said quietly. Lofn paused, glancing at him.

"Pardon?"

"When this is over; if i'm still alive, that is. I will admit. I will miss you." He said quietly. Lofn blinked a few times, unsure what to say.

"Oh. Um. Well then." She mumbled. They simply looked outside the tent, still hearing the hushed yet quiet activities of the camp.

"Tomorrow, we should go out. Socialize." Lofn suggested. She didn't hear an answer. She glanced at the guardsman, only to find him sleeping. She smiled lightly, giving him a kiss on the cheek, before she too fell passed out. As she closed her eyes, she could not notice the scope that was on her.

/

The harsh cold wind bit through the assassins uniform, chilling his flesh and bones to the core. The light snow that fell from the skies obscured his vision. It wasn't enough.

LIIVI sighed, watching that… human, interact with her daughter. LIIVI was starting to get old. It had been at least a couple of decades since he had first met the love of his life, all those years ago on that harsh, bitter wasteland of a planet. He loved her like nothing else, and when they had a child… he wept his first tears.

Fast forward nearly twenty years, and the love of his life was missing; most likely dead, and his only daughter had been sent on the most dangerous mission of her life. Fortunately, she had some good company to keep her safe. Unfortunately, she had to be romantically interested in one, and LIIVI was sure as hell not happy with who it was.

LIIVI had accepted the fact that eventually, his only daughter would eventually meet a special someone. That was something every father had to accept. Of course, he only wished that it was someone else.

He always knew that she would never be in a relationship with an eldar. She was only barely accepted simply due to her linage. Eldrad Ulthran was the only reason that she not only was allowed on the craftworld, but the reason she was alive in the first place. The farseer never let that fact get out of the Vindicare's head.

"Why did it have to be a Kriegsman…" He simply mumbled, as he watched him through an infrared scope. Kriegsman appeared human at first, but when you looked at them closer, you realized the horrors that lied underneath. They were the product of a dying empire's golden visage. They were the standard that other regiments were encouraged to live up to. A bunch of silent deathseekers that were so emotionless that even conditioned assassins like him simply shivered at the sight of them. Dying to serve the emperor was one thing. Dying because it was drilled into your skull that the only way you could ever hope to achieve salvation, was to be part of a mass grave was another.

Suddenly, he heard a buzzing noise. He glanced up at his visor, in particular, his HUD (Heads up Display). There, was an image of an ork. The Vindicare assassin sighed darkly, as he melded back into the shadows once more.

"How did you get into my HUD?" LIIVI demanded quietly. The ork grinned, leaning back in a chair. The quality was rather blurred and slowed, and the voice was a bit choppy, but he recognized that voice anywhere.

"Wot yoo shuld be askin, is how I got into yer HUD from anotha dimension, and believe me, da electrical bill is crazy."

"I didn't know you paid bills."

"Its a metafor."

"I didn't know you knew what that meant."

"I uh-"

The ork blinked, before it growled, glancing at him. LIIVI chuckled lightly, before it disappeared without a trace.

"Make it quick." LIIVI grumbled. He hated that he had to deal with this… ork. He would be much more happy to put a bullet in his skull, sooner than he would hope to work with him.

"Well LIIVI, I got a business propasition for ya." He offered.

"I would rather die than work for you." LIIVI growled. The ork glared at him for a few good moments, before he leaned into the camera and grinned, showing his cracked and decaying yellow teeth.

"Well den. Lemme sweeten da deal." He said, chuckling heavily. LIIVI rolled his eyes, before he heard something letting out a jangle. LIIVI glanced at the HUD, before he froze completely.

Though the image was blurry, LIIVI could clearly see the soulstone that was dangling from the orks fingers. It took a few moments, but LIIVI finally understood what he meant. Cold annoyance quickly turned into boiling hatred.

"Where did you find that?" He hissed. The ork let out a guffaw, slapping his knee.

"Oh, dis little numba?" The ork said, mocking surprise, looking at the soulstone.

"Nicked it off a dead daemon prince. Question is… wots it worth to ya?" The ork asked quietly, before he let out another loud guffaw, chuckling lightly.

"Yoo know wotz funny? I wuz gonna use 'er for a little experiment, till she told me her name. I thought to ma self 'Taldeer? Now were did I hear dat name before?' The ork said, adjusting himself into a thinker pose. He then glared right at the camera, before he gave him a evil, almost daemonic grin.

"You dare harm her, and I will travel the cosmos itself to find you, and to kill you in the slowest way possible." LIIVI threatened. It was an empty threat, and his voice was already broken. The ork knew this. He had the one thing LIIVI had been looking for nearly ten years.

"I luv ta see yoo assassins grovel before me. Brings a tear to me eye." The ork said, wiping a fake tear from his face.

"Yoo and I, we are gonna play a game, yeah? I point, yoo shoot. I need ya ta kill a few of dese chaos gitz for me, and when dats done, I'll need yer help doin a bit of sabatoge with da eldar gitz. After all, i'm sure yoo wouldn't want to see dis whole world's population go belly up. Yoo do wot I say, and I'll give yoo dis little numba..." The ork proposed. The silence that followed was deafening.

"What do you want from me…" LIIVI mumbled. The ork grinned, as he put on a large headset, screwing it onto his noggin.

"I'll keep ya posted. Now stop lookin at dat humie, and start huntin. Yoo got gits ta kill." Unkle grumbled, before the image cut out. LIIVI's face contorted horribly into a emotion that could only be described as pure, unbridled rage, as he stood up, and began to leave the cliff side.

/

Also holy shit I went digging through my computer, and I found some fanart for stuff I did back when I was like 10, and wrote on minecraft forums. That made me really happy.


	85. Chapter 84: Carpe Diem (Part One)

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

So here is the chapter (or part of one)

I was going to make it into one big chapter, but I felt like that would take too long.

Anyways, enjoy.

On December 25th on the Imperial Calendar, The Imperium of Man hunkered down to celebrate the coming of a sacred holiday. Sanguinella.

Klaus was very… unsure about why they were pausing their fighting to celebrate this holy day. He understood why, but there were still enemies to fight. Hence why he took it up to Lieutenant Titan.

"Simple. The electro storms have grounded the traitors ground forces, and we have already dealt with a majority of their air forces. The space battle is still going on, but it's around one of the moons. High Command has ordered us to hold our ground, and wait for the storms to pass."

"Shouldn't we push the advantage while we can, sir?" Klaus asked. Titan shot him a look, her finger noticeably toying with the trigger of her gun. Finally, the officer simply shrugged, holstering her laspistol.

"No. Those storms are a logistics nightmare. Scrambles up navigation, and utterly ruins comms. If we went into the chaos stronghold, we would be going in blind, and without air support. High Command has ordered us to hold off at the chapel."

"But what about Sanguinella, sir?" Klaus added. Titan glared at him, as the two of them finally started walking again, as their ride; a chimera pulled up. Dozens of other Kriegsmen followed, boarding the chimera.

"Take passenger. I need someone to put a leash on these mutts." Titan ordered, directing it right at Klaus. He nodded, as she took the driver's seat, relieving the operator to take the gun turret up top. The vehicle started, as it slowly yet surely drove out of the ruined battlefield, heading back to the main base of operations.

"The Sisters of Battle began the celebration. Salamanders followed, and we were so 'cordially' invited to join them. Though I am one to loathe letting those heretics live any longer then necessary, orders are orders." She grumbled. Klaus simply nodded, taking in a deep breath of recycled air.

"I heard you led the cleansing operation in Ravenholme square." She said aloud, her voice barely heard over the roaring engine and gears of the chimera. He glanced back at her, nodding.

"Yes. Officer 785312-648310 was killed by shrapnel. Operation of his troops fell under my command. The cleansing operation of the traitors that remained was a success. We prevented any of those bastards rescuing those terrorists." He reported. Titan nodded.

"Good work. Someday, you might just be watchmaster." She said, a tinge of pride in her voice. Klaus shot her an odd look.

"Perhaps you need to check your emotion filters, sir." Klaus suggested. Titan shook her head.

"Had them changed hours ago. Must be taking a while for the gas to seep in." She grumbled in response, the chimera lurched to the side, turning a sharp right turn.

"I also heard you got in some trouble." Titan added on. Klaus gave her an odd glare, realizing what she meant.

"Ah. You heard."

"Of course I did. I was in the adjacent sector. Why did you let them escape?"

"I didn't. My gun was jammed, and the fog made my aim untrue. The heretic and her child escaped." He explained. Titan simply didn't believe him.

"I'm surprised you weren't killed. What did they do to you? Flog you? Make you a corpse transporter again?" She said, snickering at that. A few other guardsmen who overheard the conversation heard it too, giggling lightly.

Klaus's demotion back with the joint campaign with the Vostroyan First Born had been nothing but a nightmare. After High Command heard of the nickname he had earned, he had been demoted to corpse retrieval. Essentially, he was given a wheelbarrow and a las pistol and was told to go fetch corpses from the battlefield to identify the fallen and deny the tyranids any source of biomass. Of course, this was during a raging battlefield. Due to the large spikes, he had embedded into his shoulders at the time, this symbol luckily prevented any friendly fire. Not so much to the tyranids he was darting between. He couldn't count how many organic rounds whizzed past his head or hit the ground near his body, or the numerous holes that had been burned into his wheelbarrow. He had almost got caught by a Haruspex, if not from a lucky shot from the Company Sniper, 117788-391200 'Ein Auge'.

He shook his head.

"No. High Command made me Ein Auge's bitch for a day." He grumbled, feeling ashamed that his brothers were laughing at him. At the mention of the half-blood sniper, the entire chimera practically roared with laughter, quickly filling the moving vehicle with hoots and hollers of both his brothers and sisters. Even the stoic commissar of what was left of their platoon joined in on the fun.

"Ein Auge? You mean the sniper born of half Kriegan blood and Tanith? You were that wasted cyclops ammo boy?" Titan said, she too laughing at him. Klaus was blushing in anger and shame, glancing away.

"Yes." He mumbled, getting a more raucous holler of laughter. Titan finally barked out a loud command in Kriegan, silencing the new recruits and slightly seasoned corporals. There was silence.

"So, life has been treating you well." Titan said humorlessly, as the chimera passed a checkpoint past the ruins of one of the municipal buildings.

"Yes. I suppose you could say that." He replied.

"That is good to hear." She simply said. Finally, the chimera came to a grinding halt. The vehicle shook and vibrated for a few moments before it was still. The door in the back of the vehicle slid open. The guardsmen in the back began to file out in an orderly line, going out in pairs.

"Celebrations will only last for a day. After that, we are moving out to the front. Grenadiers are being shipped out in 1200 hours. Your ass better be there, or I will put you down myself." Titan ordered. Klaus rolled his eyes underneath his gasmask. They were close 'friends', knowing each other for at least several years. He knew that she didn't mean it. Unless, of course, she was ordered too.

"Have a happy and holy day then." He grumbled. She nodded, as the two of them got up from their seats, walking out of the chimera. Klaus sighed, looking at the massive church.

The once grand cathedral had since turned into a husk of its former self. The stained glass had been shattered and replaced with gun emplacements, and the green grass and pastures that would surround it was now dead and decayed. Guardsmen, Adeptus Sororitas and Adeptus Astartes all patrolled around the massive cathedral, it now being the center of operations for the imperial forces. The base was full of activity. Crates of boxes and medical supplies were being ferried around, while others carried stretchers of the wounded and deceased. Klaus winced slightly, glancing down at his bandaged ribs. He still had to get that treated, though the local medication offered by a Quarter Master did a good job of keeping all of his vital fluids INSIDE of his body. He was still missing a rib from where he killed the heretic with it.

Tempted, he decided to head into the medical quadrant, the Ordos Hospitaller in fact. He was fairly sure one of the sisters owed him a favor.

/

Klaus slowly opened his eyes, sighing lightly. The morning rays of sun poured into his eyes, blinding him slightly. The guardsman slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position, stretching his weary limbs. He scratched the back of his head, wiping his eyes of fluid. He then noticed the fact that Lofn was still sleeping right next to him. He had a miniature panic attack, thinking for a second that the unforgivable had happened while he was completely sober and aware. However, noting the fact that both he and she were still clothed, he calmed down. Probably wasn't anything to be worrying about. He slowly rose, only to hiss in pain. He grasped at the burned and scarred flesh on the side of his hip. Plasma burns hurt like a bitch, and even then it was only the ashes. He stood up, and took a few cautious steps, noticing that he was walking with a slight limp in his biological leg, but it was far better than what he could do yesterday. Whatever they put in that healing salve did wonders for his body, though he felt nothing but uncomfortable in applying it. He lowered himself down to the ground once again and began to apply the salve. He cracked open the jar, dipping his fingers in the cream. His fingers brushed past his prosthetic, only pausing for a moment. The scar tissue that surrounded the metal implant was still there, though it was heavily faded. The last time he checked, the tissue that remained was in far worse condition. He didn't think much of it, as he rolled up the legs of his undergarments and applied the salve to the bite wound on his biological leg. The beast that had bitten into his leg had taken a good amount of flesh with it, and it was a miracle that the leg did not have to be amputated. The balm had helped considerably, regeneration much of its flesh overnight. However, there was still signs of the injury happening. There was a slight indent in his calf, an uneven dip in the muscle and skin. He began to apply the balm in this location, wincing in delight as the feeling that followed made him shiver. As he continued to apply it, he heard footsteps. Heavy ones.

"Legion." He said mindlessly, not even giving a second thought of who it was.

"You are getting good at this," Legion said humorlessly, as he sat down right across from him. Klaus continued to apply the salve, lowering his voice into a hushed tone, as not to wake up the Eldar behind him.

"When does it happen? When does the final battle begin? When do I get to banish Chaos from this world?" Klaus asked quietly. Legion looked at him for a few moments.

"They are coming for us. They have known our presence, and they march towards us. We will meet them at the base of icecrown. But you will not fight them."

"Who will I fight?"

"The lynchpin of the undead. Jaina and Sylvanas will go with you, along with a team of highly trained warriors." Legion explained.

"Why must I go?" Klaus said, unsure of what exactly to think about it.

"Consider yourself lucky. I vouched for you to be part of the strike force. Otherwise, you might have to go from the bottom of it to the top." He grumbled. Klaus nodded, though not entirely happen he did not fight the eternal foe, and put those heretics down into the ground.

"So when do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning. If you have anything to take care of, then today would be the time." He grumbled. He glanced down at Klaus's wounded body, as Klaus began to apply a large amount to the ruined flesh and muscle that was his hip.

"Would you-"

"No. I'm fine." Klaus said, denying what would just be more uncomfortable and insufferable pain. He needed to keep his nerves fresh for the battle ahead.

"I will take my leave. Go get Bluddflagg, before he falls asleep in a furnace again." Legion grumbled as he stomped out, before fading away. Klaus blinked a few times. He remembered a phrase, as he went over the fact that today could possibly be his last day alive. Carpe Diem.

/

The regiment had achieved victory. For now, the people of the city (what few remained) were still celebrating, and pulling members of the Death Korps into their celebrations. Usually, the Kriegers would avoid such celebrations, but the theater commander, Lord General St Germain, a scion of Scintillia, had made it mandatory to take part in whatever celebrations were ongoing.

However, Klaus wasn't in too celebratory a mood, even compared to his usual mood. Karen, one of his few remaining kameraden within the regiment, had nearly died at the hands of a lucky heretics chainsword. She would live, but her arm had been severed and was being replaced at the moment by a Hospitalar from the Order of Our Martyred Lady.

He had just arrived outside the room Karen was in, it had taken a half an hour to get there, and he was torn whether to be happy that she lived or angry that she had almost died by putting herself in such a risky position. After a few more minutes of waiting, the door opened and out came the sister. Her black power armor had a few blood stains but not in an unsettling or worrying quantity. The brown-haired woman sighed and pulled out a lho stick before addressing Klaus: "Your friend's lucky that you already provided basic medical attention by the time she came to us. She lost a lot of blood and unfortunately, she had suffered from severe blood poisoning. I had to amputate the rest of her arm, but the procedure to attach the new prosthetic went flawlessly." She reported.

The Krieger released a silent breath of relief, before composing himself: "Is she awake?"

The Hospitaler chuckled: "Yes, she's awake, I had to sedate her a few times during the operation so I could finish, so she'll be a little out of it and groggy probably... But she'll be able to handle a basic conversation. Try not to spend too long with her, or I'll have one of my sisters throw you out... " She threatened. Klaus was once again reminded that despite the almost angelic features of the Adeptus Sororitas, they were not afraid to pull a few punches, even to their own fellow comrades. "Now if you'll excuse me, Ecclesiarch Decius expects those of the sisterhood to be at the Cathedral early to help prepare. As soon as you are done talking to your friend, you should head there." She mumbled. The two of them stared at each other before they both saluted to one another. He had saved her life when he managed to disable that predator that was going to run her over. Now, she had saved one of the few kameradan he had left.

As the medical personnel left, Klaus walked into the room. It was dimly lit and it had a sweet floral scent, probably to help Karen rest after losing so much blood. The temporary facilities that the Order Hospitallers had established looked no different from any intact hospital Klaus had seen. For a brief second, he remembered when Karen had joked that there was an STC for hospitals somewhere.

Shaking himself clear of the remembrance, he got to the side of the bed, and grasped Karen's still organic hand, and gently squeezed it. He had no real words to say, but that gesture spoke enough for her to understand. He was relieved that she was alive, happy that her abilities would not be hindered in the future, saddened that he had been unable to stop her from losing the arm...and a mixture of angry and confused about why she always threw herself into the frontlines. Truly, she was a daughter of Krieg, but sometimes he felt that she took it a bit too far... as stupid as that sounded.

A raspy chuckle escaped Karen's lips as she smiled up at the form of her friend, still clad in the uniform he had worn during the assault, including the gas mask. When she spoke, it was gentle and had a little lisp from all the pain-killers and sedatives she had been injected with: "There's an old saying from Holy Terra, Klaus. It's Carpe Diem, seize the day. I take it to mean get the most out of life that you can, for we can all die at any time. I personally would like to leave as few regrets as possible behind, and if I did not do ALL that I could I would feel regret. I was worried, that I might pass away while you weren't here." She whispered. Klaus glanced at the new prosthetic arm. Her right shoulder was now completely covered in bloodied bandages and a new metal prosthetic that followed. He winced slightly at the sight of it. He glanced back into her grey eyes, which now had red lines tracing her cornea and pupil from all the narcotics and drugs.

"Then you have nothing to fear." He whispered. Karen smiled and pulled him in for a very, very, very light hug. This lasted for a few seconds, before Klaus pulled away, in fear that he might just break something.

While he did not fully understand what she meant by the phrase, Klaus nodded in acceptance and spoke: "I shall endeavor to remember that phrase." The two of them were silent, staring into each other's eyes. Finally, one of the Sisters came into the room, and he was kindly escorted out.

"She should be able to get out within a few hours." The Sister whispered. Klaus simply nodded, as he left the tent, and sighed heavily.

"Carpe Diem." He mumbled to himself.

/

"Bluddflagg, why is it that every day you seem to disappoint me even more than you did yesterday?" Klaus sighed, as the warboss sat right next to the humie.

"Shaddap." Bluddflagg mumbled, his voice heavily altered by the horrific swelling on his face. Half of his face was now bright red from falling asleep on an active furnace. His green skin was now red and puffy. Klaus still had some balm left, so he decided to put it on the greenskins face. Not that he cared for the ork. Simply because he pitied this stupid animal.

"At least I got da new arma." Bluddflagg growled. Klaus glanced back at said armor. He had to admit, it was pretty impressive.

The armor itself was mainly made out of iron and what appeared to be bronze. However, Klaus could easily tell that the armor wasn't even close to being finished. The most 'complete' part of it was only the chest plate, and even then it was somewhat small compared to the rest of the scraps that had been hammered and put together. Klaus could tell that Bluddflagg was the main force in driving the process and how it went. Spikes adorned the outer carapace of the armor, some of them being rather small while others were unwieldy and large. What seemed to be pistons and engines were also attached, though Klaus had absolutely no idea where he got that from. As he applied a bit more balm to the swollen flesh, he went behind the ork to examine it. Two exhaust pipes stuck out of what appeared to be an engine that had been bolted to the back of the greenskins armor. They were bucking and twitching in tandem with his motions.

"Where did you get this?" Klaus asked the greenskin. The ork chuckled, as Klaus went back to the front of the greenskin.

"Ah, got dis from sum gobbos ova by where da Horde is mucking about. Traded dem me shoota, but hoo boy is dis contrapshun wurff it." Bluddflagg grinned. This bit of information horrified Klaus. From what little he knew, goblins were the mechanics of the horde. The technology for the age was surprising. He did not expect them to make what were essentially mechs in an age of where sword and shield were such common weapons. Giving a shoota to them was certainly a troubling piece of information. If he could, he would try and hunt the goblin down, and 'acquire' the gun back.

"So… what does this 'engine' do?" He asked. Bluddflagg chuckled darkly, giving him a downright sinister glare with his different colored eyes.

"Oh, you'll see soon, I promise ya." He said, giggling heavily. Klaus sighed, giving him a quick slap on the face, letting him go.

"You're good. Try not to sleep on a fiery metal object again." Klaus stated. Bluddflagg chuckled.

"Ye, I'll try not too. Now, I got me a duel ta win."

"Duel?"

"Ye, a duel. Er a uh 'Mak Gora' or wuteva. Dis orcish git sounded just loike me, and I wuz pretty pissed off. I told him 'ta stop soundin loike me, er I'll shuv my foot so far up yer ass that moi teeth will be givin ya dental.' and he just screamed at me and demanded a duel er whateva. Wanna watch?" He asked, giving him a wide grin. Klaus thought about it for a moment. As time-wasting as it was, Klaus certainly wouldn't mind watching some entertainment.

"Fair enough. How bad could it be?" He asked himself before he nodded.

"Sure, let's go." He said. Bluddflagg nodded, giving him a light shove, nearly knocking the guardsman over with his absurd strength.

"How bad could it be?" He said, chuckling heavily.

/

Klaus was somewhat surprised about how this duel was going. More surprised at who was performing. As Klaus was a tag along to watch, he was forced to stand next to dozens of filthy greenskins, trolls, and tauren alike, watching the spectacle like he was an animal himself. He probably would have gotten into a fight if Amora Dayspear wasn't sitting next to him. He was somewhat thankful for that because he would have certainly preferred to sit next to an elf then to an orc.

The so-called battle, also known as 'Mak'Gora' was apparently a duel to the death. Klaus was silently wondering how Bluddflagg managed to piss someone off to the point they wanted him dead, but considering the orcs temperament as described as Amora, it was possible that it didn't take much.

The so-called 'duel of honor' also had some rules. Interesting rules, but rules nevertheless. They were both allowed one weapon. The weapon could be blessed by a shaman, but it was not necessary. Body armor was not allowed, so Klaus had to help Bluddflagg strip down to basically his pants and coat. Each participant had to have at least one witness. Seeing as there was a crowd of nearly a hundred of beasts, that rule was easy to fulfill. The duel had to be accepted by both contestants. The so-called Garrosh was the one who issued it, and Klaus knew that Bluddflagg would never back down from a challenge, so that was also easy to fulfill.

Bluddflagg let out a roar of anger, as he grabbed Garrosh with his klaw, crushing him slowly, while he continued to batter him with his fleshy hand. Garrosh returned by swinging his ax in a blow, hitting the ork in the shoulder. Hard. The impact made the ork falter, dropping the ruddy-colored orc to the ground. The cheering and screaming that came from the crowd fuelled the combatants to throw themselves at each other once more. Klaus was certainly surprised at how this duel was going. Klaus initially expected for Bluddflagg to easily beat Garrosh, but Garrosh proved to be quite the opponent. The duel had been going on for nearly five minutes, far longer than what appeared to be normal.

Bluddflagg swung with his klaw, almost taking off Garrosh's head off. The orc ducked underneath his guard, swinging with his ax again. The blade smashed itself into the warbosses ribs, getting him to let out a roar of pain and anger. Bluddflagg swatted the orc away, sending him sprawling to the ground. Bluddflagg stomped forward and swung his foot down at the skull of the orc. Garrosh swung his ax again, getting Bluddflagg in the back of the leg. Every swing of his ax only pissed off Bluddflagg more, not even faltering in his attempts.

"Your friend is quite good, I didn't expect him to last this long." Amora whispered slightly. Klaus glanced at her, before back at the fight. Though Klaus loathed to admit it, Bluddflagg was rather good at it. Brute strength and tenacity alone were good enough to fend Garrosh off, but Klaus had realized several minutes in about Bluddflagg's strategy. It was a simple one. Wear him out. Garrosh clearly was the more skilled warrior, but he simply did not have the brute force necessary to put the ork down. Rather than risk his loss, Bluddflagg was simply happy with drawing out the fight, letting Garrosh waste his energy.

"He is rather good at fighting." Klaus mumbled quietly. Bluddflagg swung his powa klaw down to the ground, nearly crushing Garrosh with one blow. Garrosh rolled out of the way, striking the ork in the arm. Bluddflagg replied with a savage uppercut, knocking the orc down to the ground. His ax skittered out of his hand, bumping right into Bluddflagg's bare feet. The ork grinned, taking the ax in his hand and walking up to Garrosh. He then threw the ax between Garrosh's legs, narrowly missing his crotch. Bluddflagg then letting out a deafening roar, wildly shaking his arms about.

"Come on ya git! Git up! I want a real fight outta ya!" Bluddflagg howled. An extremely loud cheer came from the crowd, filling Bluddflagg with pride. He beat his chest, smearing it with his own blood from the numerous gashes and cuts in his body, hooting unintelligible words and noises.

Garrosh slowly got up, spitting out a broken tooth and some blood, wiping his face. Bluddflagg stopped gloating, turning back to the orc. For a couple of moments, they both stared at each other before they finally lunged at each other again. The clanging of steel against steel echoed like gunshots, as Garrosh and Bluddflagg exchanged blows. Garrosh was more nimble than Bluddflagg, darting between each of his blows to strike at Bluddflagg with his ax. Bluddflagg was far more durable, easily able to take blow after blow. Klaus could feel the tension in the air. It was almost dead quiet until finally, the duel ended in a moment.

Garrosh lunged in for the kill, striking the ork in the back of the leg. Bluddflagg snarled, swiping with his klaw. Garrosh ducked under the blow, striking the ork in the forearm. He struck again, and again, trying to cleave the orks forearm, therefore disabling the orks only weapon. Bluddflagg however, was not going to go down that easily. Bluddflagg snatched Garrosh by the throat, choking him. Klaus was expecting him to pop his head off, but Bluddflagg had a worse idea. Bluddflagg threw the orc to the ground, pummeling him with his meaty green fist. Each punch had the force to break bone, and what little energy Garrosh had was quickly drained. Bluddflagg only had to punch him one more time to kill him. To end him. He didn't do so.

Bluddflagg then spat on Garrosh's body. A deep gasp came from the crowd around Klaus. He was slightly confused as to why, but he was still entranced by the fight.

Bluddflagg then did the unthinkable. Bluddflagg unzipped his pants, and pulled it down slightly, and then began to pee all over the orc's body. The silence was dead quiet. There was no sound, except for a golden shower dripping all over Garrosh's chest and neck. After what seemed to be like twenty seconds, Bluddflagg stopped. He zipped up his pants and grasped the deep wound in his arm, staunching the blood flow that by now, was dripping onto the ground like a water fall. He then started to walk away from the ring. The crowd opened up, Bluddflagg walking past them. Bluddflagg walked past Klaus, and Klaus followed him. He felt the burning hatred that was directed at both him and Bluddflagg, but Klaus was sure that the ork did not care that much.


	86. Chapter 85: Carpe Diem (Part Two)

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

Sorry this too so long, I had some... personal issues.

I would have uploaded this yesterday but the website went down.

For... some reason.

Anyways, enjoy.

The insurrection did not happen immediately. The morning sun came from the sky, piercing the sorcerous veil briefly. Within an hour, the chaos encampment was up and about, doing their daily things. Feasting on stolen food and guzzling down stolen wine. The thousands of mutants and dozens of chaos space marines rallied within what was left of the temple of worship, as several 'priests' led the daily ceremonies. Prisoners were sacrificed, and dark chanting was to be had. Nothing unusual.

Then, a Khornate Mutant began to argue with one who followed Tzeentch over a piece of chainmail armor. The Khornate claimed it was his, while the other said otherwise. Then, the Khornate leaped upon the tzeentchian, ripping its throat out with its engorged jaw and jagged teeth. Then, one of the Khornate let out a foul below, screaming at the top its lungs.

"DEATH TO THEIR ILK! FOR KHORNE!" He roared, followed by a whooping screech. Mutants revealed hidden daggers and blades, while Space Marines revved up chain axes and swords, and began to descend upon each other, violently maiming any who did not serve Khorne or his interests.

As Sualk helped lead the slaughter, he felt nothing but pride about the plan. In exchange for a few extra… gifts, from the Bloodthirster, the mighty daemon had entrusted him to lead the slaughter and so far, it was going swimmingly. It was clear that the followers of Tzeentch had not planned for this at all, and in the opening fights, lead to mass confusion. However, as tzeentch's puppets fled out of the temple and into the residential quarters, it was clear they wouldn't go down without a fight.

Sualk ducked behind cover, as a hail of bolter rounds passed by him. He unholstered his kai gun, grasping the daemon weapon in his hand.

" _Three marines to your left, a sorcerer to the right. And the mutants, don't forget about them._ " Aetozar reported as Sualk peaked out to fire out the stone pillar. His lightning fast reflexes made him leap back in cover, but not before he heard the familiar clunk of power armor hitting the ground. He could feel his anger pooling into his weapon, his fury providing even more caustic ammunition.

"Thanks for the help mom, but I can figure that out myself." Sualk grumbled sarcastically, as he reached into his belt, pulling out a frag grenade. He pulled the pin, holding it for a second before he hurled it forward. He heard a panicked shout, as it exploded, an orange plume of flame flashing in his lenses. A few body parts from the idiotic mutants who tried to stop him flew past him, and Sualk let out a dainty sigh. He always loved that sensation. That thrill of performing such an act. It was almost… heavenly.

" _Keep your erection in check fool. We still have enemies to dispatch._ " Aetozar hissed. Sualk rolled his eyes, taking another pot shot, as a khornate berserker ran past him, swinging around a pair of chainswords, letting out a frothing roar. The ground underneath the guardsmen feet began to quake. Pink tentacles began to appear from the ground, striking those who came near. Sualk swore heavily, as he fired at more of the mutants who tried to close the distance. More and more of these malformed creatures fell to the ground. The ground itself began to move, large clumps of rock, dirt, and snow moving like raveners underneath the ground.

"Tzeentch's daemons are hard at work." Sualk snarled aloud. Aetozar let out a mental shrug.

" _We became part of a Bloodthirsters horde and we are fighting against Tzeentch's ilk, so it is to be expected. I am the only reason that we are still alive anyway..._ " Aetozar mumbled. Sualk raised an eyebrow, as he began to charge forward, putting away his kai gun and drawing his blade.

"Is that so?" Sualk challenged, as he barreled out of cover, moving with inhuman speed towards the three remaining space marines, along with their sorcerer master. They brought their deadly payload to bear, firing bolt after bolt of ammunition. Dozens of the explosive warheads whizzed past him, as Sualk moved from side to side, making short little jumps to the side followed by a boost of alacrity, the result being that he was far too hard to hit then it would be possible. The rare few bolter rounds that did come in danger of hitting him were parried, deflected by his black blade, where they exploded in the air. The metal shrapnel dug itself into his armor and in the skin, though he had long stopped feeling such sensations ages ago. He quickly did a roll, going right under the gaps of power armor encrusted being, doing a surgical slice as he did. The result was a burst of hot steam and the squelch of ceramite melting, as the coolant lines in the mark IV power armor were severed, allowing for the internal temperature to increase dramatically, if not slowly. The space marine let out a howl, as it swung with a ceramite encrusted fist, but Sualk was already busy dealing with the other two, which had now drawn their combat knifes.

Sualk let out a quick incantation, warp energy pooling at the tip of his blade and at the tips of his fingers. He let out a volley of doom bolts, using his very soul as the propellant. The result was devastating, as a near point-blank volley of the chaotic warp energy nearly disintegrated one of the combatants. The soupy and mushy remains of both flesh and ceramite fell to the ground, the only pieces of the space marine being part of its left leg and its right arm. Sualk then dedicated his precious time to deal with the sorcerer, who was trying to set him alight with warp fire.

" _Yes. It was aware of my presence almost immediately. Without me, you would be nothing._ " Aetozar growled menacingly. Ducking underneath a swing of a knife, Sualk shoved the edge of his blade right into the kneecap of the last combatant, only to be impaled from behind with a large spear. He snarled in anger, barely noticing the fact that he had been impaled in the heart, as he turned around, facing the surprised mutant. He snatched it by the throat, and with one savage twist, broke its neck, its head now 180 degrees in the wrong direction. Sualk discarded the body, as he focused his attention on the fool that still remained.

/

LIIVI watched the massive battle in the chaos encampment with mild interest, his eyes slowly scanning the battle with great care.

"Oi?! LIIVI?! Can you hear me er wot!" A voice screeched directly in his ears, the grating voice making LIIVI growl in anger.

"Yes you incompetent oaf, I can hear you." LIIVI snapped. He glanced up within his helmet, seeing a shaky image of the ork eating popcorn and drinking some strange black liquid from a bright red can.

"Lissen, let's make dis quick, I got a sabotage to get reddy." Unkle said casually, shovelling a handful of popcorn into his greedy maw, chewing it up messily. LIIVI let out a harsh sigh, giving the little video of the ork a look that could cut steel.

"Who is the first target." He snapped. The ork leaned in forward, scattering his food all over the floor. He let out a violent burp, filling the cold blooded sniper with even more anger than before.

"Roight roight. Get ready. I managed to do a little bit of computa hackin, and wiff diss-" Unkle said, quickly pulling out a strange contraption that almost looked like binoculars. "And I'll see wot u see wiff yer scope."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"Well it works, doesn't it?"

"..."

"Ye. Dats wut I thought. Now, lets see here…"

/

After watching the duel, Klaus had begun to feel a burning sensation in his lower spine. It felt out of nowhere, and Klaus had to admit it was extremely annoying. As so, he skulked back into his tent to try and relieve it. To his surprise, Lofn was still there, reading a book. As he approached her, she quickly put it away, giving him a calm smile.

"Klaus. How are you?" She asked kindly. Klaus gave her a cold stare for a few moments. It was so easy to forget what she had done to him. It was so easy to forget that she had twisted him into what he was now. However, he ignored this. Being petty about it now would do nothing for him.

"Bad. I have this pain in my back and it won't frakking go away." He grumbled. Lofn gave him a look.

"And you are informing me about this because?"

"Well… you asked how I was. I replied that I was having some back pain." Klaus explained. Lofn let out an 'ah'.

"Well. Would you like me to soothe it?" She asked curiously, a bit of a playful tone in her voice. Klaus shot her a cautious look, though, with another pulse of agony in his spine, he simply nodded.

"Go ahead." He said as he sat down right in front of her, slightly curious to what he meant. She turned herself to face him and gestured to the sleeping bag in front of them.

"Lie down, and take off your shirt." She said politely. Klaus was quickly getting skeptical of his choice, but never the less he relented. He unbuttoned his armored greatcoat, putting it aside, and pulling off his undershirt. He was thankful that it wasn't that cold today. He put his chin on the soft sheet, slightly waiting and curious as to what would happen next.

Lofn then sat right on his lower backside, her legs clamping around his hips, surprising him immensely. He was about to voice his displeasures when she began the experience.

Klaus had to admit that there were very few times in his life where he moaned. Not the times where he was stressed out or was just annoyed because that happened often. He was talking about pleasure. He was ashamed to admit that was one of those times. It was quiet, but they both certainly heard it. Klaus's face turned a deep shade of red, while Lofn merely giggled. Klaus couldn't describe the sensation, but it was amazing.

"Like it?" Lofn whispered while Klaus gave her an embarrassed look.

"Yes." He admitted.

"Want me to keep going?"

"Yes."

They were silent for a couple of moments, as Lofn began to slowly yet firmly apply pressure to his back. Her gentle and smooth hands rubbed against his scarred and rough skin, and for those few moments, they were both quiet.

"Lofn. I have something to confess." Klaus said quietly. He could practically hear her eyebrow slowly raising.

"Go ahead." She mumbled. Klaus sighed, feeling extremely calm.

"I want to tell you everything."

"Everything? What do you mean?"

"Today is the last day. The last day before the final battle. In the likely chance that I die, I want you to remember me as the person that I was, not the actions I have committed. I just… I just want to get this weight off of my chest." He mumbled. They were both quiet for a few good moments, Lofn pausing the massage to process what he said.

"I will be happy to hear your story, if it makes you feel any better," Lofn admitted. Klaus sighed heavily, as she went back to soothe his pain.

"So...Where to begin?" Klaus mused aloud, while he knew this would likely be his last day on this God Emperor-forsaken planet, it was still hard to talk about the past with a non-Imperial, even if they were an outcast among their people.

A grunt escaped his lips as Lofn hit a particularly annoying knot in his back. "The beginning is usually the best place to start, I find." Lofn's reply had an audible smirk in it, causing the Krieger's eye to twitch in irritation.

Klaus' bit out a growly reply: "Throne damn-it...I guess you're right though. I was born in one of Krieg's vast birthing centers, one of one hundred. Extremely small by regular birthing procedures, which usually are in the thousands. Only I and one other survived. All of them perished. My birth was unremarkable by the standards of Krieg, considering that a good amount of every set either dies or mutates to the point of being banished outside." He began, already hitting a sour note.

"I learned of the guilt of my world and my lot in life to redeem the treachery of those who forced Colonel Jurten to purge the world of the nuclear fire before I could walk." Here he paused when he heard a near silent gasp, but convinced himself he was imagining it: "After that came the start of basic military training for my batch."

His "masseuse" interrupted him here with a strained voice: "How old were you?" Klaus's eyebrow raised at the tone, but he assumed it was just physical exertion. "Old enough to hold a las carbine and fix a bayonet. So, around the age of two." He explained. Lofn was quiet, as she realized what he meant. Klaus however, ignored her silence. He had grown used to people ostracizing him and his brothers, and he didn't exactly care.

"After basic training me and a kameradan were sent into regiment after regiment. Every time we were moved, but I never knew why. I was one of four others assigned to my first regiment, though the other three were snapped up for various 'special assignments' over our first few battles… having shown great skill and valor." He continued, pausing for a moment

"And you didn't?" The half Eldar's interruption drew a tiny bit of irritation from the Krieger. He was not happy about what she implied in that question, but he stamped the thought out, as it was a valid question, "I did later, but at the time I was usually stationed at areas that had bogged down or were facing lesser resistance. It's harder to earn battlefield recognition when you don't have a real opportunity to do so in the first place.

"I served in multiple sieges and city assaults alongside my kameraden, over time the familiar faces I fought with started to disappear... Replaced with new Krieger models as replacements were needed due to special assignment or death." He mumbled. He then tried to continue, but he simply felt far too calm and relaxed to continue.

As Lofn listened to Klaus recount his life, she felt sick. Here was a man who could have been anything he wanted if he had been born anywhere but Krieg, but he was stuck on a world where they were raised from birth to believe that their only purpose was to fight and die in the wars of the Imperium. But beyond her distaste for what Klaus had been through, all she felt was hatred for the ancient enemy, the lords of Chaos. If not for them, perhaps by now there might have been understanding between the Eldar, and humanity...But she knew that was nothing more than the dream of an optimist.

As she hit another knot, she realized that Klaus had trailed off. She paused her massage to give him a second to collect himself. Lofn then heard a gentle snore. She peered down at him, glaring at him from an angle to realize that he had passed out. A slight giggle escaped her lips as she realized she had put the guardsman to sleep,. She then stood up, gently raising herself off his back. She then quietly made her way out of the tent, intending to stand guard so the dozing man inside would be able to rest.

/

LIIVI aimed his rifle, his scope aimed right at his target, a tzeentchian sorcerer. He let out a deep breath, slowly squeezing the trigger. His body jolted from the recoil, as the long Exitus rifle let out a shot. The Vindicare's helmet provided all of the targeting data, coordination, the information he needed. It was now just pulling the trigger. A cloud of smoke came from the barrel of the gun, as LIIVI pulled open the chamber door with the firing bolt, getting a shell the length of his middle finger to fall to the ground. His target fell to the ground, grasping its neck, as a hole the size of a bottle had been punched into its neck, a small gap between the power armor and the heavy cables that supported it.

"Now its just point n click adventure, like Da Secret of Monkey Island." Unkle said over the comm, as he was busy trying to shove artillery shells that were nearly 100 feet long into a grenade launcher. Of course, there was always some trickery to it, involving pocket dimensions and vortexes in each grenade. The so-called 'Sunkillers' apparently had a large payload. He only wondered if the ork would survive loading it, let alone firing it.

"Any other targets?" LIIVI demanded, his voice strained from dealing with him. The ork chuckled, shaking his head.

"Nah, I'm dun wiff ya. It's been fun. See ya soon." Unkle said, giving him a salute as he did, as the call ended.

The ork sighed heavily, wiping his brow of sweat, as he glanced back at the massive frigate rounds. Nibbla, who was busy playing solitaire, let out a growl.

"Whaddya mean dat 'This is a huge waste of time'? Nibbla, if I dunt shuv dis shoite into somefing I can shoot, den wots da bloody zoggin point of stealing it in da first place?" He shouted. Nibbla let out a grumble, flipping a card with the tip of its talon.

"No, Nibbla, dis isn't a huge waste of toime, just lissen!" Unkle snapped, as he stood up and began to pace around.

"Yoo see Nibs, when da Eldar punks are gunna launch der invasion, dey are gonna bring all of der fancy ships wiff em. Dats when we show up, and blow dem all da way ta hell! Dat way, dosestupideldarposhpointyeartolkien GITS! Won't eva mess wiff me!" Unkle proclaimed, at this point frothing at the mouth like an animal with rabies. Nibbla let out a hefty sigh, spewing out a few specks of bile as it did so.

"Lissen Nibbla! Yoo don't need to be such a zoggin pessi- pesi- urgh… GRUMPY TWAT! Den we board da stoopid spacey hulk, and set up a nice big zoggin foirin line." Unkle snarled, as he began manipulating the pocket dimension to an appropriate size, using old one technology to do it somewhat safely.

"As I sabotage da tellyporta, dey run der poncy asses back ere, where dere gonna get shot up! Ill kill dem all, all of dem! Except for Eldrad, and dat posh LIIVI git." He snarled, finally getting into the proper position. He held it like a net, as he began to walk to the tip of the round.

"He'll realize wot a zoggin failure he would be, and I'll laugh my bloody arse off, and pelt him wiff soulstones and smear him in zoggin blood woile he's crying loike a babee! Maybe ill take a piss on him too! Yeah, yeah! Dats wot da thievin twat gits fur messin wiff me! Dats wot ya get when ya mess wiff da Unkle! Haha!" He guffawed, as he slowly but surely began to slip the pocket dimension around the tip of the round. Its massive weight lightened to a point where Unkle could easily push it forward. Slowly yet surely, the massive frigate round was swallowed up by the dimension.

"Dey'll see! Dey will all see! Den, no buddy will mess wiff me, and I'll enact moi bluddy revenge…" Unkle growled, rubbing his hands together, cackling maniacally. Nibbla let out a growl.

"Kill teams? Woddya mean boi dat?!" Unkle said, confused. Nibbla then lets out a string of grunts and snarls, getting the ork to consider what he said.

"Hm, yer roight. Da Eldar probably wuld come afta me if I had all of the dose soulstones. Moight just hide out in da Tau Empoire again." He grumbled, scratching his chin. Nibbla then let out a growl, one that caught the orks attention.

"Woddya mean, 'Someone left a package?'" Unkle asked. Nibbla responded by spawning a living carpet of rippers, spewing out hundreds of the little creatures. The rippers then began to swarm underneath a large crate, bringing it towards the ork. The ork let out a girly scream, clapping his hands together.

"OOOOOO! I luv when sumone gives me free shit!" He said, squealing with excitement. He reached into his coat, pulling out a crowbar, as he pried open the crate. A piece of paper flew out, one that Unkle immediately caught. He glanced at the handwriting, scoffing. He pulled out a pair of monocles stapled together (see: glasses) and put it on his nose, his red eyes squinting to read the fine print.

"Dear Unkle. I have finally grown sick and tired of your shenanigans. While our relationship was strained at best, and downright venomous at worst, I have recently found out that you have stolen my collection of coffee mugs. I view this to be downright unacceptable. Inside of this crate, you will find that I have stored several high explosive bombs, powerful enough to destroy a planet and create a black hole. This will be the last time we meet. Ever. By the way, I took my mugs back and stole your collection of carpets. Let's see how you like it. Sincerely, Trazyn the Infinite." Unkle read out, his eyes going wide at the mention of his carpet collection. He then glanced down at the large crate, noting what appeared to be a cyclonic torpedo warhead, wired to explode in eight seconds.

"Nibbla! Gimme da pocket tellypor-" Unkle shouted, before realizing that with a golden zap of lightning, the Hive Tyrant had already escaped, leaving him stranded. Unkle sighed in the realization, pulling out a pocket watch, and set the time to five minutes before. The ork then glanced down at the bomb. Four seconds. Three seconds. Two seconds.

"I hate my life." The ork sighed, before both he and everything in a light-minute radius was vaporized.

/

Klaus slowly opened his eyes, being slightly confused. He wasn't on an insect-infested blanket and bag, but rather in a grand dining hall. He scratched his head before he realized exactly where he was. Scintilla. He blinked a few times, rather confused. A dream, perhaps?

Within the massive dining hall, thousands of guardsmen, space marines, and sisters of battle alike mingled, and celebrated the holy day of Sanguinella. The day dedicated to the primarch who gave his life to weaken Horus, to allow the emperor to forever slay the traitor primarch. Some ate a variety of food cooked by what few royal staff was left, while others prayed to a makeshift shrine dedicated to the Winged Angel himself.

Klaus was sitting on a rickety chair, surrounded by Salamanders. He stood up, glancing around. One of the space marines took notice.

"Look at this one brother. That one clearly overslept through the ceremony." A salamander joked, followed by hearty laughter from at least four other space marines. Klaus blushed severely, embarrassed that even Adeptus Astartes were not below picking on him. He walked away, taking in a deep breath from his gas mask. It was as magnificent as he remembered. He walked around before it quickly devolved into a sprint.

He ran towards a massive group; almost a horde, of the guardsman, brushing past them to see what few guardsmen he could remember.

He saw Officer Titan, who was taking shots of amasec with several other guardsmen, each of them clinking their glasses together in solemn silence, remembering the fallen.

He saw Watchmaster Unnachgiebig, who even in the celebration, was going over battle plans with his fellow watch masters. They discussed how to coordinate the siege of the enemy stronghold, eating over the masterfully cooked grox; which had been mounted on a spit.

He saw the half-blood sniper, Ein Auge, who was casually flirting with an Adeptus Sororitas, admitting that she simply looked drop dead gorgeous in her power armor. She replied by throwing her drink all over him, covering his face with wine.

He saw… Karen. There she stood, across the hall. She was casually talking to a Salamander Scout, laughing at something that the scout said. They both clinked their glasses, drinking together before she glanced right at him. Klaus's heart skipped a beat. This felt too good to be real. He just hoped that wasn't the case.

For a moment, Klaus did not notice the tens of thousands of people in the grand hall. They were all ignored completely, to the point where Klaus did not even recognize their existence.

 _It's been. It's been so long…_

Klaus slowly began walking forward, stumbling over himself.

 _All of these days. All of these battles. I just hope it was worth it._

He was running at this point, sprinting. She quickly began walking too, drastically shortening the distance between them.

 _Because after all of these trials… I can't find much happiness in anything anymore._

They bumped into each other, almost knocking each other to the ground. He held her in a tight embrace, almost strong enough to break bones.

"Easy there. I would hate to go back to the emergency room. Again." Karen whispered softly, her voice seemingly surprised.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He whispered quietly. Karen pulled away, giving him an odd look.

"What are you talking about?" Karen asked, slightly puzzled. Klaus's eyes boggled slightly, glancing around. He grabbed her hand, hard, and began to walk away at a brisk pace.

"Follow me. Follow me. Please." He whispered. Karen was confused and a bit worried, but nevertheless, she followed him. They walked out of the lively grand halls, running into an abandoned clock tower, not too far away. As they reached the top level, Karen ripped her hand out of his grasp.

 _Is it possible? Is it possible to go on? What happens if we win? What then?_

"Klaus, what the frakk is going on?" She snapped, before she glanced at his eyes, and sighed. "Please?" She added on. Klaus groaned heavily, grasping one of the archaic metal pillars to hold his weight.

"I have so much to tell you, and I have so little time," Klaus mumbled as he began to tell her everything. Everything, starting all the way back on Mystikos Prime. How he ended up on Azeroth. All of the people he met, all of the battles he fought, all of the creatures he had slain, and all of the new experiences he had. Karen's expressions varied widely, from sheer confusion to surprise, and at one point, anger. She did not say anything, and as Klaus finished, he could tell that she did not understand, nor believe, a single word he said. Klaus's face drooped, all hope being wiped clean off his face. He sighed heavily, clutching his face with a leathered glove.

 _So little time. So little time._

"Karen I'm sorry." He finally admitted. Karen looked at him, confused.

"Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry that I let you go. I should have gone with you. I should have gone with you, but my pride said otherwise. I let the oath get to me. Get to my head. I realized too late that without you, I'm just a shell of my former self. And now that you're gone forever, I… I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean, gone?" She asked softly. Klaus sighed, as he collapsed to the floor, his legs teetering on the edge of the clocktower.

"Show me it. Show me the paper. I know that you have it. The form. Show me the form." Klaus demanded. Karen blinked once in surprise, before reaching into her greatcoat, pulling out the paperwork. He snatched it and began to rip it into pieces.

"Klaus! What the hell have you done?" She shouted in anger, rising up and screeching at him. Klaus bolted upward, shouting in turn.

"What I should have done long ago! To hell with the inquisition! To hell with this, to hell with everything!" He snarled in rage, throwing the shredded yellow paper to the ground, before stamping on it with his wet boot, smearing the ink with water and mud. He then tore off his gas mask with one yank, throwing it to the ground in his blindness. It smacked against the stone and metal floor, making a resounding clank. Karen was about to scream her protest when Klaus grabbed her and held her in his arms. She began to struggle in his grasp when he uttered three words.

"I love you." He admitted, making Karen freeze slightly. Karen sighed heavily.

"I should have said it from the first day we met. I always loved you, and when I lost you, I didn't know what to do with myself anymore. They say us Guardsmen, us Sons of Krieg are supposed to be heartless creatures, yet… when I was with you, you were the only thing that lit the blackness of my soul. You were the only thing I truly cared about in this grim and dark universe. Hell, you ARE the only thing I truly care about, even when you aren't around." He said, his own words choking up his throat, like wet concrete being poured into his esophagus.

"I just hope… that you feel the same." He whispered. They were quiet for a few moments, simply staring into each others soul. His crystal blue eyes peered into her dull yellow tinted lenses, the only sound being his soft panting and her heavy breathing.

One last time. One last trip before the ride is over.

Finally, she took off her gas mask, revealing her dirty and smeared face, one single tear coming from her grey eyes.

"Kiss me. Kiss me you dirty, arrogant, heretical fool." She whispered. Their lips pressed together against each other, the warmth of their bodies protecting them from the cold wind chill. Both of their hands holding each other's bodies, Klaus's neck arching slightly to make up for Karen's shorter height. Finally, they separated from each other, both of them huffing and puffing. Karen glared at him, before finally speaking.

"If what you say is true, and that I died… does that mean you'll see me soon?" Karen asked. Klaus swallowed down his pride, nodding lightly. The two of them sat down once again, staring out at the silver moonlight that poured down from a hole in the clouds above, cascading both of them in its radiant glow.

"If I don't make the trip," Karen said quietly, glancing back at him for a moment. "Then I'll be waiting for you."

"And then what?" Klaus asked quietly. Karen gave him a sideways glance, smirking.

"We'll do it all over again. Who knows? Maybe we would fare better next time."

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Don't keep me waiting. And make sure you get a glorious send-off. I expect nothing less."

"Thank you. Thank you for understanding." Klaus said as he nuzzled up into Karen's shoulder, a tear coming from his eye, rolling down his cheek, and hitting the ground. As they sat next to each other, everything began to fade away. Slowly, the watchtower disassembled itself brick by brick. Soon, it began to collapse, but even then, the two guardsmen still sat next to each other.

In that moment, and that moment, Klaus did not feel like he was a guardsman. He did not feel like a soldier of the Imperium, nor of a son of Krieg or a loyalist. He simply thought of himself as a man. The woman next to him, being the love of his life. Their hands clamped together, as they both began to fade away. Piece by piece, they slowly disappeared. The last words Klaus said before they were both gone would be a grim irony of what was to come.

"I'll see you soon."

In Memory of Leonid

1999-2017


	87. Chapter 86: Carpe Diem (Part Three)

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

Sorry this took so, so long.

I would have had this out awhile ago, but I was uh.

You know.

Being lazy.

(Im sure half of the people on this website can relate)

Also, you still have a week to vote on which part of the ending you want first

Second place will be uploaded second of course, and third will be uploaded third.

Ill post an authors note to let you guys know.

Also Dwatch helped me a good amount of this chapter, so thanks to him.

Anyways, enjoy.

Bluddflagg rubbed the back of his head, moaning loudly. Gunfire, bullets. He heard them all. A ringing in his ear, some git yelling at him to get up.

"Gork dammnit, cant an ork just get sum good sleep wiffout yoo twats makin me wake up." He groaned, as he slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Kapn, we got humies openin foire on us!" A familiar voice screeched. Bluddflagg paused, glancing to his right."

Mista Nailbrain was unloading with his big shoota, his ammo belt wrapped around his shoulders as he poured out a stream of golden bullets from the barrel of his smoking gun. He looked exactly like the last time he remembered. A large section of his head is covered with rusty red metal and paint, a beady red glass eye peering out into the jungle, and being… alive.

"OI YA GIT! I MISSED YA!" Bluddflagg squealed, grabbing the Mek in a powerful hug, almost enough to break the boys spine.

"Oi Kapn? Da bleedin zog are ya doin?! Put me down, put me down!" The ork yelped in surprise, batting at the back of the warboss's chest with a meaty paw, ignoring the dozens of las bolts that were pouring into the armored green behemoths chest.

"Its been so long ya twat! I thought yoo were ded, but no! Here you are, muckin about mork knows where!" Bluddflagg let out enthusiastically, genuinely happy to see the mek. Right now, the mek was not in the mood.

"Owowowow! Boss, lets stop da huggin, and get to da killing! These humie flashlights hurt!" Mista Nailbrain wailed. Bluddflagg dropped the ork violently, flexing his power klaw as he turned around, pausing slightly. The scenery seemed familiar, the humies even more so. Wait a minute…

Bluddflagg glanced to his left, his heart dropping at the sight.

His kill krooza was a horrific mess, a massive monstrosity of rusted metal and scrap making a crater on the planet of Typhon. Hundreds, if not thousands of ork bodies surrounded the crater or were in it itself, while dozens more were being cut down by the humie kill teams. As he rushed forward, roaring in anger and hatred, he passed by the body of the storm boy nob, Brikkfist, who had been bisected in half. Judging by the trail of blood and how far away his torso was from his legs, Brikkfist tried to find help before he bled out. It would come too late.

In a few moments, Bluddflagg was in the midst of the guardsmen. It quickly became horrifically one-sided melee fight, as the towering green behemoth tore apart the squads of guardsmen. One of them; the sergeant presumably, charged forward, swinging his chainsword right at the ork. The warboss simply caught the blade in his power klaw, the sound of diamantine teeth churning away at the adamantium claws. He then snapped it with a twitch of the blades, while he grabbed the officer by the neck with his meaty paw, choking him slowly. Bluddflagg took in a deep breath of relaxation, ignoring the bolts of lasers penetrating his skin and armor, taking in the rich jungle air. He ignored the insufferable humans weeping and cries of agony, and the hands that battered his own. Then with a jerk, the humies head was snapped 180 degrees in the wrong direction. Bluddflagg tossed the limp body aside, as he leaped on one of the guardsman, tearing him apart with his powa klaw. His screams and the blood and gore that followed failed to satisfy the orks thirst for combat. He let out a laugh, one that echoed deep in his chest and lungs, escaping from his throat. It was a call of violence, a thirst that had not been sated for a long time. He was tired of fighting undead monstrosities and daemons, and now he had an excuse to brutalize a familiar foe. Humies.

As he punted a humie at the wreck of his kill krooza, impaling him upon the many spikes of the wreck that was his krooza. He pumped his fist, letting out a hoot of laughter.

"Ha ha! Its been too long." He said, giving out a wide grin, ruffling his greatcoat and new set of arma. He paused, doing a mental loop in his head. It was clear he was in the past, possibly making it a flashback, however, he still had his powa klaw and old armor. He noticed that he could still see with both eyes. Mista Nailbrain didn't say anything about it, but Bluddflagg realized that this was a dream. One that he was in. One that he could control. A vision, perhaps.

Realizing this, he glanced at his ork comrade, who was busy looting the humie bodies. Bluddflagg remembered going up this hill, and remembered who was up there.

He barreled past the mekboy barging up the hill. Passing the scattered ring of bodies, he approached the still breathing kommando nob.

"Oi kapn… woi yoo look so funny?"

"Now aint da time fur questions git. Getcha sorry ass up, fore I use you loike slippers." Bluddflagg commanded, giving the kommando nob a hand. The nob snatched it, and the warboss yanked the ork up, who grabbed his fallen kustom shoota, shoving in a new clip of ammunition.

"Lissen up you two gits. Chances are dis aint real, which means that we cant doi. Dat means." Bluddflagg announced, getting two pairs of suspicious eyes on him. He rolled his eyes, as he flexed and unflexed his powa klaw.

"Well, heres da fing. Yoo two gits are ded, and I'm still aloive. I fink dat dis moight be a dream, and dat means were zoggin invincible! Deres humies. Hundreds, maybe even a thousand up ahead. Lets say we get killin, for old toimes sake?" He said, grabbing each of his fellow orks by the collar of their shirt, bringing them both close enough to inhale his musky and oily scent.

"I fink da kaptin has officially lost it." Spookums mumbled. Mista Nailbrain let out a nod, before they heard gunfire.

They all glanced in the direction, as more humies began to approach them, doing humie things like taking cover and barking orders at each other. Bluddflagg cheerfully grinned, as he barged forward, letting out a roar of both anger and joy. His two underlings, getting worked up in the fighting energy followed. The three orks let out jolly cheer of joy and bloodlust as they charged forward. Comrades united, even for a fleeting moment.

/

Within the cold and icy caverns that lies deep within Northrend, a character nearly forgotten was hard at work.

Nebetaruk silently oversaw the excavation of these massive tunnels, being the theoretical overlord of these pathetic slaves. The corrupted necrons let out silent wails, screeches of binary and code, as they scraped and scratched at the ice and rock with their razor sharp talons. The Necron Lord had been working like this for what was probably a month. It was endless, and painful, just to listen to them. To listen their whispers. That's all he heard now a days. Whispers from his subjects. Whispers from the c'tan, and whispers from… something else. He could not describe it, but it was dark. Heavy. Ominous. Similar to the Nightbringer, but far more malevolent, and far more cunning. It was clawing at his sanity, tearing at his mind like daggers through supple skin. He would not cave in. He would not.

The Necron Lord stopped sharpening his claws on the rocky wall, as his subjects finally stopped digging, uncovering what appeared to be a dark and moody cavern. The Necron growled, as his mindless slaves stepped aside, as he approached the entrance of the tunnel. Whispers. Familiar ones.

"Come closer. Seek your destiny…" It grumbled within his mind, droning on and on within his ears. The Necron growled hatefully, as he began to take steps down the tunnel, grumbling in anger.

"I'm considering going down there to silence you myself," Nebetaruk growled, almost as if he was expecting something to grumble back to him.

"Please do. Show me, what you are capable of." It replied back.

"Fine. But you asked for it…"

/

For the first time in awhile, Ahriman could see again. The sorcerer of the thousand sons took in a deep breath, a bone-chilling sensation tingling down his spine. It was then the black sorcerer glanced at himself, realizing in shock what he was.

He looked at his skeletal hands and claws, flexing his bony fingers.

"My my…" He whispered softly. This...this was new. Concentrating the powers of the warp, he was surprised, and fascinated, when instead of the lightning he usually could wield or doom bolts, he cast an icicle a foot long.

"Well then… I certainly don't remember doing that." He whispered to himself, his raspy and whisper, heading over to where the icicle was embedded. He paused for a moment, noticing that his legs were well… gone, instead being able to levitate. This certainly would take getting used to. Now that he was cast free of a mortal form, he finally could work harder in his experiments and trials. Trials to become something more. Finally, he glanced back and examined the projectile.

It was razor sharp, and as hard as ceramite, something he discovered when he rapped his new skeletal knuckles against the projectile. After he finished studying the magical construct, he was able to examine himself more fully.

If he had eyebrows any more, the former First Captain of the Thousand Sons would have raised one in surprise. Gazing back at him was a skeletal face and body wrapped in an armored robe. Chains and skulls embroidered his robes, an old tome chained to his ribcage. Strangely, he still had his horned helmet upon his head, though in reality, there really wasn't much for him to keep it.

Contemplating his new appearance, he smirked. So this was what it was like to be undead. He glanced around the chamber that he was in, noticing a corpse that was seemingly placed out of nowhere. It was mostly a skeleton, with very little; if any flesh still on its frame. It was clear why it was here. A test. To see how he could handle his new powers. It wouldn't take long for the master sorcerer to figure it out.

In a fit of humor he attempted to raise an undead creature, and he managed to raise a single skeleton warrior on his first try. He concentrated his power upon the decrepit body, his hands flashing in a dark green and purple energy

"Rise!" He shouted, though this wasn't entirely necessary. He just wanted to see if any words were necessary. Words of power, one could say

The resurrection was nothing amazing. His minion was unarmored, and only wielded a single rusty sword and what could have been a shield at one point; But the sorcerer hypothesized that as he got more of a handle over his powers, he would be able to summon more powerful undead minions to do his bidding. He glanced at his hand, as the necrotic energy faded away into nothing but mist. He glanced back at the undead minion at his command. For the next two minutes, Ahriman began to try and command it around the icy chamber. He instructed the skeleton to strike the icy wall with its sword, march around in a circle, and to do a twirl on what was left of its heels.

"I could get used to this…" He whispered to himself. True, he did not have his powered armor and its incantations to protect him, nor did he have his precious staff that amplified his powers, but his new form and this new sorcery could provide useful in his ventures.

The Black Lich flung his hands forward, spitting out a green skull of howling death. It collided into his minion, filling it with more vital energy. It looked less of a marionette and now a foul parody of a man. Ahriman chuckled lightly. It was a good variety of spells, but he was wary of why he was still alive (kind of, anyways), wariness that proved to have value when several older liches appeared at the entry to the chamber, including one who was larger, and far more decorated than the others. Subconsciously he knew they were there to bring him before whoever resurrected him into this form…

"Come, brother. Embrace your destiny as the Lich King's chosen." The largest of them beckoned. Ahriman scoffed mentally, feeling the powerful forces at play, trying to manipulate his mind. Of course, Ahriman was far more powerful than the lich could ever hope to be And while he was stronger than each of them individually, he was still not used to this form, and so complied. He smirked mentally, floating out of the chamber he had been reborn in. He would serve these puppets. For now. Until then, he was happy to play this game of manipulation. It had been awhile since he had taken a back seat.

/

Klaus glanced at the regicide board, scratching his chin. He slowly reached out, moving the pawn a single space. He then glanced at his opponent, who was simply glancing at him.

Lofn glanced back at the board, seeing his formation. He had created a complex arrangement of his regicide pieces, making a wall of pieces that had very few openings. Klaus was pleased with himself. He might pull this one out.

Lofn picked up her bishop and moved it forward. She plucked it down, and smirked, knotting her hands together and put it firmly on her lap.

"Check mate." She said politely. The guardsman blinked once before he glanced down at the board.

Priest Klaus sighed heavily, face palming heavily.

"This is why you don't frakking challenge a psychic to a game of regicide." Priest Klaus mumbled, utterly embarrassed at the buffoon next to him.

"EMPEROR DAMMIT IM GOING TO FRAKKING WIN A GAME! REMATCH, REMATCH! I SHALL TEACH THIS WHORE A LESSON!" Grenadier Klaus screeched at the top of his lungs, ripping the hair out of his helmet.

"Honestly, I think I've had enough of it." He whispered. He glanced at the scoreboard he had fashioned out of a ripped piece of paper. Seven to zero.

After he had taken his nap, Lofn had approached him with the boardgame. She said that she borrowed it some from friends that she made while he was sleeping. Of course, the nature of these 'friends' was obviously questionable. Klaus glanced outside. It was turning dark, and the crimson sunset cast its rays on the ground and the camp.

"Well, I concede." Klaus admitted, though simply saying those words felt vile and uncharacteristic of him. It was only a game... He ignored the futile screams of Grenadier Klaus, roaring that 'Surrender is never an option you disgusting coward!' while Priest Klaus simply told him to 'Shut up already'. He offered a handshake, a reward for a game well played. Lofn blushed slightly, though she took it in her pale hands, shaking it.

"It was fun while it lasted." She grinned. Klaus chuckled. He was in a considerably better mood than before, especially after that amazing dream he had. For once in a long time, he felt… good.

He found it ironic. He was supposed to be an emotionless clone. A robot that felt nothing but guilt for his sins and contempt for his enemies. To an extent, he still felt guilty for the past, and he still had hatred for the heretic and Xeno, but now?

Klaus stood up, glancing at her.

"I need some alone time. I'll be back." Klaus mumbled. Lofn gave him a confused look but didn't say anything. Klaus then stood up and left. Lofn sat there, listening to his footsteps as he left.

Lofn always felt guilty reading through Klaus's books, but at the same time, learning such information always gave her a sense of exhilaration. There was one in particular though, one she didn't remember seeing before.

It was large, much larger than either his journal or the primer. She checked to make sure the guardsman left before she opened it. Something felt… dark about this book. As she opened it, she felt wrong. Truly and honestly wrong.

"Where did he find this…" She whispered to herself, as she flipped a few pages. Then, she saw it.

On one of the pages, a massive rune coated the aging paper, written in what could possibly be a fusion of blood and ink. The star of chaos.

She wanted to throw it away immediately. Toss it into the sea. Burn it. However, she was confused. She despised chaos, but not nearly as much as Klaus did. Why did he have it, and furthermore, where did he find it?

She flipped another page. Writing. She squinted hard, before realizing it was in high gothic. Something she did not know how to read. She suddenly had an idea.

Using both the primer and his journal, she roughly began to translate what few words she knew, compared to the text on the unholy paper.

"Armed with faith, none shall find us to waver. None shall find us running, but all shall find us standing as one." She read quietly before her eyes rolled into the back of her sockets

/

Sualk gazed out of the side window of the transport his unit had been "graciously" assigned on their shore leave session. The planet of Colchis was breathtaking in its beauty. It was home to many of the greatest temples to the pantheon of Chaos, second only to those in the Daemon World of Tera itself. The one city on the planet was massive, nearly spanning a quarter of the planet, where billions, if not trillions of citizens lived.

As the home of Lorgar, the Enlightener, the planet was jealously guarded by the zealous Word Bearers, who scrutinized all who visited Colchis...searching for hidden treachery. But they knew better than to question the soldiers of the Death Korps. The holy warriors let them by with no problem.

Lofn was shocked, seeing through the eyes of someone she had never met, but she knew the name, almost like it was engraved or carved into her memory. Sualk.

After some time, the Krieger found himself in one of the main markets in the capital city. It was bustling and prosperous. As he looked around, seeing what goods that were for sale caught his eyes, he was aware of several groups of bound daemons wondering around. Lofn found that she could only watch. A group of "pink horrors" giving riddles or glimpses of possibilities in exchange for money for their master...And unsurprisingly, two Daemonette prostitution rings. He passed by them, ignoring their coo's and voluptuous forms.

"I would rather have sex with a clump of dirt than your kind, temptresses." He growled in reply. Sualk could only shake his head in disappointment at how many weak minded people readily took advantage of those services. Daemons wandering the streets for things like this was a rather common sight. Daemons had virtually no rights, only serving as slaves or battle thralls, so it was common to see them wandering the streets, trying to serve their human overlords in any way they could. Of course, slave rebellions were nearly as common too, as well as all of the civil wars and infighting. Sualk found it sad that if the Dark Imperium didn't spend so much time fighting one another, and the God Lord spending all of his energy in controlling the dark gods, they could have easily taken over the galaxy.

After walking through the market twice, and on the verge of deciding there was nothing of value here, he was brought up short when he caught sight of her. She was a human woman, of roughly twenty years of age, with striking features that spoke of a nobility of some sort. Sualk was about to continue on, he noticed something. He could not sense any of the touch of Chaos upon her.

Reassessing the situation, he soon realized why. She was a slave girl, probably captured during one of the latest raids into Lupercalian controlled space. A slave girl like that cost a hell of a lot of money… But it would be worth it if he could turn her into Chaos.

Making up his mind, the Krieger approached the slaver and offered him a fair price. Two thousand runes. One that was readily accepted, apparently the girl had already killed several would-be buyers. A smirk crossed his lips as he heard that, Sualk LIKED a challenge. He grabbed the chains eagerly, dragging her along the road, the chain nearly strangling the woman to death.

Mercifully for Lofn, the memory shifted past the part where the anti-Krieger broke the girl, but she still saw the end result. The woman was now a thrall to Chaos and Sualk's willing slave. Her once pristine body was marred by Slaaneshi runes that burned to gaze upon, and her body changed from the athletic build she once had to what her Aunt Macha had once told her was a "bimbo" body. And as Lofn looked into her eyes, she saw that the woman felt nothing. No independence, nothing but subservience. With the indent in the back of the head, she realized why. Lobotomy.

A shudder of revulsion swept over the half eldar as the woman crawled towards her to with a look of lust and adoration in her eyes.

/

Klaus took a deep breath, as with one final pull, he pulled himself up a cliff, not too far away from the base camp.

"So uh… why did we climb up here?" Grenadier Klaus asked, slightly confused. Priest Klaus shrugged.

"I dunno, he hasn't said anything yet." Priest Klaus said. Grenadier Klaus frowned, scratching his chin in confusion. Klaus sat down on the edge of the cliff, his legs dangling over the ridge.

"Hey uh, buddy… wanna talk about why we are here?" Grenadier Klaus asked. Klaus didn't respond. Grenadier Klaus tried to be as polite and formal as he could. After Klaus didn't say anything for around five seconds, he lost his patience.

"Hey! Listen to me!" Grenadier Klaus barked in anger. Still no response. Grenadier Klaus was fuming at this point and was about to let out some vulgar insults when Priest Klaus intervened.

"Let me, you blunt instrument you." Priest Klaus said calmly. Grenadier Klaus gave him a piercing glare but said nothing else.

"Hey Klaus, why exactly did you bring yourself here?" He asked. Klaus gave him a sideways glare, before sighed.

"Eh, just wanted to get some fresh air." He admitted. Grenadier Klaus practically rolled his eyes into the back of his head, while Priest Klaus smirked.

"I swear, its like he never listens to me anymore." Grenadier Klaus mumbled.

"Should we tell him? About the dream?" Priest Klaus asked sincerely. Grenadier Klaus glanced at the guardsman, who was simply watching the coastline. Grenadier Klaus shook his head.

"Tell him after. Don't need to ruin the mood." He simply grumbled. Priest Klaus arched an eyebrow.

"He deserves to know that it wasn't real." He stated. Grenadier Klaus gave him a scolding glare and snorted.

"He does, but now isn't the time." He grumbled. Priest Klaus was surprised.

"I thought you would be on my side."

"I don't like what that conniving bitch did either, but if it makes him happy, then I'll let it slide." Grenadier Klaus stated.

"I'm genuinely surprised."

"I can see."

"So… now what?"

"Right now? Relax."


	88. Chapter 87: The Ending (Part One)

Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.

Here is part one of the ending

I would have gotten it out sooner but has been having some issues lately, so sorry for the delay.

I hope you enjoy.

Next part is going to be the attack on ice crown.

Anyways, enjoy.

Thelinda Mosswing almost hated the fact that she was sent on this scouting mission. No. Scratch that. She DID hate the fact that she was sent on this scout mission because now she had to reminded of the awful things that happened in Darnassus. She was not comfortable near these things, and she more than despised them. Luckily, she wasn't sent alone. Several other Night Elf rangers had also been dispatched with her to scout their advance. They were coming, and in numbers, she did not believe were possible.

It was clear the forces of this so-called… chaos did not mess around. A massive host made of mutated creatures and wildlife marched in the tens of thousands, holding primitive weapons and swords made of rusted metal, but was more disturbing were the strange golems that followed them around. She almost assumed they were magical constructs, and she was more than careful in observing them. Perhaps it was the thousands of footsteps or rowdy howls and barks that kept her and her team masked.

"Perhaps we should go?" One of the night elves asked as Thelinda continued to watch the advance.

"No. Not yet. We will leave when we have garnered enough information." She whispered in turn, watching from an elevated and wooded position. It would be very hard, if not impossible, for someone to spot her. For hundreds of years, she had trained in the twilight forests of her homeland, and she was more than capable of hiding in stealth. She continued to scan the advance, cursing the fact that there was a good chance that she may not live to see tomorrow. Though she served the goddess Elune, she wouldn't mind living to see another day.

One figure caught her attention in particular. What could possibly be a human in a black and red uniform, its face covered by a helmet and a bronze mask that seemed to be ever changing in contorted screams, with two rose-tinted lenses staring… right at her.

She ducked down slightly, angling herself to a point where she could see him, but he could not see her. The human was still looking at where she would have been before he turned his head and continued marching. Thelinda looked away, not noticing the human simply disappearing in a spark of flames. She then glanced back at the marching column. Thelinda felt a tap on her shoulder. She glanced over to her side to see that one of her rangers wished to take a look. In exchange, Thelinda would have to be on guard duty. She notched an arrow in her bow, and slowly walked to the edge of the small forest, watching for any intruders.

It was only a few minutes before she swore that she saw something in the corner of her eye. Though elvish vision was superior to most other sapient races, even she could not process what she saw. Suddenly she was jerked backward by something slimy and pulsating, that grabbed her by the head. She screamed aloud, but her cry of help was muffled by the disgusting organ. Her body was soon constrained by the organ, and as her body fell to the ground, she saw her captor. Her white eyes widened slightly, realizing who it was.

It was the same human she saw just minutes before. He was dressed in black greatcoat, black and red pieces of armor covering the torso and shoulders. It was looking at her with two red tinted lenses, along with a mask that seemed to be made of bronze that contorted into screaming faces. The human smirked, kneeling down. Thelinda realized in horror that the tentacle that was constricting her had sprouted out of his back, the organ being twice his length, made of only muscle and flesh.

"Hello. Am I saying this right? I can't exactly comprehend your primitive language all that well." The human said quietly, whispering in her ear.

"Want to see a trick?" He asked quietly. The mask contorted into what could be a grin, metal forming into a rough smile, as the human stood up, and turned toward the rest of her group which had yet to notice this… thing.

"I'm going to slaughter your entire scouting group because you are rather piss poor at what you do." The human smirked. Thelinda was quiet, filled with rage and dread.

"Cheer up would you?" He said, smiling. "I'll make it quick." He promised, standing up to his full height, putting a hand to his heart, bowing slightly. Thelinda noticed one of her rangers seeing the beast, notching an arrow into her bow.

"To hell with you." She spat, though her mouth was muffled by the fleshy tentacle. The human kneeled down, getting his ear closer to her.

"Speak up pumpkin. I can't really hear you." He said, snickering at his own comment. Finally, the arrow had been fired. It hit him right in the back of the neck, going right through to the other side of his neck, nearly knocking him down to the ground. That should have killed anyone else.

"Well then! How rude! I was going to make this quick, but perhaps I should draw this out." He said, angered, as he pulled the arrow out of his neck, from the tip of the arrowhead all the way to the feathers at the end. He began to walk forward, drawing out blade that seemed to be made of the blackest obsidian. Thelinda muffled a protest, as the organ began to drag her along the forest floor, leaving a trail of slime behind them. The rest of the Rangers began to fire at him; nearly eight in total. With inhuman speeds, he swung his blade, cutting each arrow as it flew at him. A roar came from behind her, as she saw a group of perhaps ten mutants barge forward, roaring in rage and anger. They seemed to be Wolvar, most carrying pairs of small yet deadly hatchets. Thelinda struggled against the organ that bound her; to no avail, unfortunately.

She was subject to the slaughter that followed, as the night elf rangers tried to hold off their attackers. Though death was certain, they fought on. The human though was simply too strong, able to magically toss them aside like nothing. With waves of his hands, he brought them at high speeds right into the tip of his blade, killing them nearly instantly. She watched with horror as their very souls were devoured and consumed in front of her. Their bodies decayed and withered at an unnatural rate, while she could hear their ethereal screams and beg for mercy which fell on deaf ears. The wolvar mutants threw themselves at the last ranger, covering the night elf in a seething mass of fur and teeth. She screamed one last time until her vocal cords were quite literally ripped out of her body. The human sighed, sheathing his blade.

"Well, that was fun. Here's my bit of advice. Your team did a good job of covering your trail, though you missed a few when one of you stepped in some slush down the hill. Also, if you are trying to spy on someone, the point of doing so is NOT to get caught. Rookie mistakes, but of course, there is room to improve." The human noted absentmindedly, literally ignoring the slaughter he had just committed.

"Now, I'll send you on your merry little way. But before that, I want something from you." He said, giggling slightly. The tentacle that had sprouted from his back lifted her from the ground, and he snapped his fingers.

"Clean her up, would you?" He demanded. The wolvar; now stained with purple blood and organs quickly arose from their kill and began to clean the slime and dirt that covered her with their tongues.

"Kill me already. End it." She snapped at him. The human gasped, covering his mask in mock shock.

"KILL YOU?" How absurd! No. I won't kill you. I'll just do this." He said as he raised his mask up; just enough for his pale mouth and sharpened teeth to be revealed. The tentacle drew in her closer, and before she realized it, she was forced into a kiss.

The beast's tongue forced itself into her mouth, swirling around. Furious with this, she bit down as hard as she could, making him pull back in surprise. He then smiled, wiping his lips with his own blood.

"Kinky. Not bad." He said. The organ then released her, dropping her to the ground. The pulsating organ of muscle and flesh began to retract back into his spine, most likely disfiguring him in the back horribly.

"Go. Run to your alliance. Tell them we are coming, and we are ready to fight. Try to stay alive, for when we burn this world and enslave your people, I might just give you special privileges." He grumbled. Thelinda rose up, glancing around. The Wolvar were all looking at her with hungry eyes and salivating maws, and the human simply stood there, tapping his foot.

"You know, I can sic them on you whenever I want. I gave you the hint. Take it, and go." He stated. Thelinda began to run away, running as fast as she could.

Sualk chuckled, wiping his lips again, watching the fleeing figure in the distance.

"Girls got talent, I'll give her that." He smirked, waving away at the Wolvar, who joyfully went back to feasting on the corpses.

/

For hours, they had marched. Nearly fifty thousand soldiers, organized from all corners of the world were solemnly marching. They marched straight, always walking forward, never really knowing where. Apparently the higher-ups knew, but in reality, they did not know. They were like cattle, marching to the slaughter. They were promised battle, against a foe beyond comprehension. The tension was high, and the normally rowdy and eager troops were dead quiet.

So when pathfinders and scouts reported the approach of the Chaos Army, the forces of the Alliance and Horde stopped marching, slightly confused. The barks of sergeants and drillmasters were loud and quick, and soon the troops of Azeroth began preparing for battle. They separated themselves into two distinctive armies, for even though they stood united against a single foe, they did not bear the friendly relationship to do it side by side.

Orcish grunts and warriors clad themselves in heavy armor, as did their Tauren allies, for they would be the front line of the Horde's formation in the face of the coming tidal wave of foes. An interlocking shield wall of bronze and wood buckles and iron and steel axes formed the front line, while intermixed between them were blood elven spell breakers and Tauren warriors, armed with massive poleaxes and ancestral totems. Troll headhunters and elven archers, along with any other fighters, as well as warlocks and druids, would form up behind them. Normally the Horde's ranged firepower, while nothing to scoff at, were rather traditional and lacked the punch of dwarven and gnomish gunpowder, but they had an ace in the hole, technology that the alliance had yet to acquire. Futuristic firearms. With the "donation" of the Shoota by Kaptain Bluddflagg, goblin engineers, overseen by the master of ratchet, Gazlowe, was able to churn out a comparatively small number of imitations. They were bulky and inconvenient, as they required two people to handle them. One to operate the firing mechanism, and one to hold the ammo drum to prevent it from rattling off. As so, the stronger races of the horde, such as orcs and tauren, were designated to hold the ammo drum that was connected to the gun by a large bandolier, while goblins were assigned to manipulate the firing mechanism, since they alone knew how to operate them. These heavy personal ranged weapons were assigned to the best shots in the horde, their job would be to flank and annihilate forces with heavy automatic fire. A thin forest consisting of decaying trees and decrepit bushes would provide ample cover until the right moment, so they were quickly sent into the undergrowth to hide and wait. Some of the heavier models were mounted on the mechs the goblins deployed. Repurposed Shredders, who still kept the mighty buzzsaw on one of its mechanical limbs, while a machine gun was mounted on the other. It lacked the firepower or the fire rate that a shoota had, let alone the kustom one it was based on, but it was leagues better than any former goblin gunpowder weapon. Many of these pilots and engineers were more than happy to try out their weapons of mass destruction and were happy to oblige the ork who had gifted them such technology. Orcish siege catapults, while primitive in construction, still had a longer effective range than most weapons in the Horde's arsenal; and as such would be the first to engage to chaos forces barreling down upon the forces of Azeroth. Even now, the orcs who maintained them prepared their ammunition, as the ground beneath them began to tremble and quake.

Meanwhile, the alliance prepared themselves in a similar manner. Human footmen and dwarven warriors, as well as paladins and those adventurers and other melee fighters who had rallied to their cause, clad themselves in heavy plate mail and carried broad shields; they would only allow their enemy through when they were dead. They began to make a heavy formation of sword and spear behind steel clad shields. They were in a loose formation, to allow the shorter dwarven rangers to open fire. Behind them, night elven huntresses and dwarven rifleman made up the bulk of the Alliance's nonmagical infantry level firepower. Night elven bows would do well against the unarmed rabble, while the dwarven gunpowder could pierce through most forms of armor. Several Draenai with special sniper rifles that had been aboard their ship was also present, though they were far few in number. Beyond them there were priests and arcanists spread throughout the line, ready to hurl their spells as need be. From Ironforge to Stormwind, the races of the alliance stood proud and ready. Unlike the Horde, who relied more on brute strength and savagery, the Alliance relied more heavily on artillery and war machines. Gnomish cannons and other inventions stood in massive batteries besides dwarven mortars and night elven glaive launchers; and while not as good as the other artillery, there was still a large amount of human-made cannons, many of which were forged in Kul Tiras' arsenals. Luckily for the forces of Azeroth, their camps were near a long tall hill. So they were able to set up in a perfect defensive position to receive the Chaos forces. Even with this defensive ground, the confidence of many of the warriors and soldiers gathered was shaken when they saw the vast horde of monstrosities laid out before them.

A massive horde of creatures, outnumbering the gathered forces by perhaps two to one stood at least several hundred meters apart from each other. The artillery crews did not yet fire, though they made sure that all was needed was to light the fuse. A snarling mass of flesh, steel, and teeth made up the first few lines, while the far more organized rear of the army stood in solemn silence, patiently awaiting the slaughter that was to come.

Before the battle began, a massive figure in black MK V power armor strolled forward, bearing the banner of an eight-pointed star. His blood red eyes scanned the army arranged in front of him, snorting as he did. The being spoke with a grating voice: "FOOLISH MORTALS! THE GODS DEMAND THIS WORLD BE CLAIMED FOR THEIR DARK DESIGNS! I GIVE YOU A CHOICE! YOU CAN EITHER BOW AND SAVE YOUR LIVES AND EARN A POSITION OF POWER IN THE NEW WORLD ORDER WE WILL FORGE! OR FOOLISHLY RESIST, AND BRING YOUR OWN DESTRUCTION!"

Sensing the feeling of hopelessness in his forces, King Varian stepped forward. When he had passed to the front of his forces, he looked up and down the line...as his gaze passed the Horde he saw that Garrosh Hellscream had done the same. Turning back to the figure in armor, he spoke: "I choose what once...A coward did not. The Alliance shall NEVER bend the knee to such depraved beings! We stood against the Burning Legion and DROVE them back, and we will not show our tails to these mongrels! We shall NEVER SURRENDER! FOR AZEROTH AND THE ALLIANCE!" He roared, unsheathing his blade; Shalamayne, Cheers broke out among the forces gathered under the hundreds of banners, all bearing the golden lion of the alliance. An echoing cry of defiance, of pride.

But then the warrior of Chaos turned his attention to the Horde. Garrosh Hellscream snorted: "We Orcs were slaves once before...We will never be such again! So come all you scum! Come and face the might of the HORDE! And wither under our FURY! Come, to die beneath our blades, and come to be stomped under our heels! LOK'TAR OGAR!" A chorus of battle cries, whooping hollers, and screeching roars, all backing up the declaration of the champion of the Horde.

The dark being snorted: "THEN YOU HAVE CHOSEN DEATH!" Waving his ax, he directed the first charge. "FOR CHAOS!" Tens of thousands of monstrous creatures, some pitiful and some horrific, charge forward, prayers to the Dark Gods and war cries on their lips. As one, a massive swarm of the mutated beasts ran forward, exhaling musky breath and swinging crude clubs and spears wildly in the air.

The sound of horns coming from the rear of both the alliance and horde signaled the bombardment to come. As the mutants charged forward, artillery shells and other siege weapon projectiles started to rain down upon them. Flaming mortar shots and elegant glaives soared through the air, and impacted into the ranks of mutants and beasts, killing scores of them. Whole ranks were torn apart into bloody giblets by cannon balls bouncing through them, sliced into pieces by glaives, or turned into paste by catapults and trebuchets. But despite heavy losses still, the forces of Chaos pressed on, roaring eagerly. Their legs quickly closed the distance between the shield walls of both the alliance and horde, beginning to split apart as each army was roughly ten to twenty meters apart from one another.

Soon they came in the range of smaller personal weapons, and more of the forces of Chaos fell in their droves. Arrows penetrated weak spots, killing with impunity; while concentrated musket volleys ripped into soft skin and fur, turning the unfortunate many into nothing but leaking pieces of meat. At this point, the second wave charged forward. These attackers were much more numerous and much more dangerous, as they were armed with actual weapons, not wooden spears and clubs. Ranging from initiates in light leather armor or with mutations that made their skin harder to penetrate, to massively corrupted taunka, carrying weapons almost too large to be feasible. They waded through the storm of projectiles and managed to get to within melee range. The alliance and horde both stood their ground, letting the uphill charge wash onto their shields.

A bloody melee ensued. Hundreds fell in the first few seconds on both sides, but the initial ferocity of the charge resulted in more deaths among the defenders of Azeroth than among the attackers. Corrupted taunka swung massive axes and cleavers, ripping apart unarmored troops with ease, while they knocked the ones who were adequately protected flying like marbles. Chaotic trolls swung with large broadswords, their thin and lanky form and natural agility allowing them to weave through combat, decapitating or stabbing as the pleased. Feral Wolvar pounces onto the smaller of soldiers, ripping and tearing their throats out with engorged fangs and salivating maws. However, many of their foes lacked armor to protect them, and as so the longer the combat dragged on, the more the initial ferocity was absorbed. Soon the second wave was wavering...but they had done their job. They were merely there to keep them busy. The real punishment was on its way.

The third and fourth waves were launched simultaneously at that point...And with the melee fighters already tied down, the ranged soldiers had to do the brunt of the damage. It wasn't enough. Several magnataurs, gigantic beasts nearly twenty feet tall were among them, leading the charge and taking the brunt of the withering fire. One particularly lucky arrow shot lodged itself right in a magnataurs eye. The mutated creature let out a howl, as it collapsed on its fellow mutants, crushing at least two dozen of them. Despite heavy losses from the volleys of withering arrow fire and what few musket shots that could be fired, those two massive formations got into melee, reinforcing the all but depleted second wave. The dead had begun to pile up,

The Alliance and Horde were slowly being pushed back. Despite the individual skill and bravery of their forces, they were no match for the daemonically blessed forces pressing in on them. Garrosh ordered the shoota equipped mounted warriors to flank and unload on the attackers, a task that they proved extremely deadly in. Gazlowe himself, leading the barrage, let out an evil cackle, as he began to fire his own personal shoota, almost breaking his arm with it.

"Die you sons of bitches!" He roared, as suddenly, the entire forest was lit in red.

Whole files disappeared under heavy automatic fire. Hundreds, if not thousands of mutants and beasts were ripped to shreds immediately, killing scores upon scores of them. This simple slaughter was enough to propel the horde into an orgy of violence, as they threw themselves at the mutants that were pushing them back. Kaptin Bluddflagg himself led the charge, killing a score of mutants with every single swipe of his klaw. Cairne Bloodhoof, chieftain of the Bloodhoof tribe, stood side by side the massive ork. And still, it wasn't enough.

While the forces in combat with the forces of Azeroth were losing, they were naught but cannon fodder. Soon the fifth wave, made of the most promising of the local cultists, the so-called "Chosen of the Gods" had entered the fray. They marched in silence, not even running when scattered arrow fire rained from the sky, turning them into pincushions. These Chosen inflicted horrific casualties on the defenders. For every Chosen the force of the Alliance and Horde managed to kill, a dozen or more of their own lay slain. Leading them was a figure none knew, but soon many would fear.

/

Sualk marched along the chosen of the gods, breathing in the slaughter and air of despair. Finally. Hopefully here, he could find a challenge. As he approached, he saw something familiar. An Ork khan, ripping a corrupted tauren into two pieces, beating a group of mutants with the upper half of it. Sualk began to run forward, arrow fire raining down from above. Arrows flew past him, embedding themselves in the ground, while others were simply reflected, as Sualk channeled a shield of chaotic energy to shatter the heads on impact, the shrapnel resulting in at least one incident of friendly fire, as an arrowhead was deflected right into a chosen tuskarr, slitting its throat open, and causing it to fall to the ground.

 **"I sense something dark within this creature,"** Aetozar whispered quietly, as Sualk approached the melee, heading straight for the ork khan.

"Possession?" He asked quietly.

 **"Perhaps, though it is not from chaos… something… alien."**

"Sensing something alien within an alien. You really are a genius sometimes." Sualk said, chuckling lightly. The greater daemon merely sighed in anger and frustration, often annoyed by his arrogance.

 **"Be quiet…"**

Sualk then drew his black blade, as he approached the warboss. The ork was busy ripping apart a mutant with one hand, crushing the life out of it, until it noticed Sualk.

"Klaus? Is dat you?" Bluddflagg asked, surely confused.

"No, it is not. Fight me. To the death. And please, make it worth my time." Sualk asked politely, pointing it at the ork. The khan blinked a couple of times, before he chuckled darkly, throwing the crushed mutant aside, growling.

"Fun time eh? I'll make it fun by breaking yer spine with nuffin but me pinky." Bluddflagg snarled in anger. Sualk let out a light giggle, as he lunged forward, leaping almost like a dancer, as the ork smashed his klaw to the ground, cracking the loose earth. He returned in ply by ducking underneath his arm, giving a quick slash. Nothing but a tease. The warboss let out a snarl of anger, swiping again. Sualk caught the blow, catching it the two razor-sharp prongs with the edge of his black blade. His knees buckled, letting out a 'hmph' of determination. Bluddflagg was stunned.

"YOO WOT?" Bluddflagg said, shocked. He snarled in anger, as he forced his arm down harder, his indomitable strength slowly yet surely pushing Sualk to the ground.

 **"Perhaps this is where your foolish arrogance will finally get you killed?"** Aetozar whispered dryly in his ear, chuckling slightly at that prospect. Sualk snorted, as he continued to hold back the ork.

"Please. I'm just getting warmed up." He mumbled, as with one last burst of daemonic strength, he pushed upward, and rolled out of the way, slicing with his sword as he did. He heard the satisfying clunk that followed, and the ork howling in rage. However, he was not quick enough to dodge the massive fist that followed. He was punted nearly ten feet away, skidding towards the ground. The guardsman slowly stood up, noting that both of his arms were broken. He let out a grunt of pain, as muscle tendons ripped themselves out of his body, providing a convenient rope. He pulled the muscle tendon under his mask, biting down hard. He pulled his tendons towards him, getting his arm into a position he could do something. His body began to heavily mutate, a third arm made of nothing but muscle and bone sprouted out of his lower stomach. The third arm grabbed his two broken arms, and forced them back into position, as his Nurgle flies began to heal the wounds, burying deep within his skin and flesh to force the bones back together. As his right arm finally was able to move, he cut the mutated arm off of his body, letting the organ shrivel and wither underneath him, as he forced his other broken arm back into place. He scooped up his black blade with his right arm, as his left arm snapped itself back into position with a loud crack. He smirked, quickly getting back into a standing and formal position.

The ork was looking at his precious power klaw, which was now missing a blade. Bluddflagg glanced at his beautiful weapon, which had now been desecrated. Molten metal dripped from the glowing hot stump which had been the leftmost blade. The ork glared at Sualk, his green eye glowing in rage.

"Ooh, now you done did it." He grumbled as he stomped forward, cracking his neck as he did so. Sualk held his blade in a two-handed guard. He sighed lightly, as he began to run forward.

"I've missed this kind of thing." He admitted.

 **"Try not to lose your head, and make sure he loses his..."** Aetozar growled. Sualk grinned.

"I'll try not to disappoint."

/

As the battle raged onward, the Alliance and Horde began to rally themselves, pushing the hordes of lighter infantry back. Grunts and Footmen stood side by side, along with trolls and elves, holding back the hordes of mutants.

King Varian stood amongst his men, fighting against a tentacled monstrosity. The roaring behemoth began to savagely beat its chest, screeching in anger and rage as it lunged forward, slamming down with three of its limbs. Varian rolled away from its crushing swing, swinging his blade as he did so. Shalamayne sliced through one of its limbs, cutting two of them off with a single swipe. The creature fell to the ground, writhing and screaming in agony and rage. Varian ended its suffering by putting a boot to its skull, and swung his blade down, burying the blade deep within its neck. He swung again, and again, each swing making the body twitch even more in its final moments until with one last swing, the head was severed from the body. The king of the alliance huffed and puffed, as another heavily mutated opponent approached. This time, it seemed to be in the shape of a two-headed tauren, holding a massive greataxe in its hands. It roared in anger, as it marched towards the king. One brave and foolish footman charged from the side, only to be smacked aside by a single uppercut with a free arm. It grabbed its ax back in its two hands and began to charge forward. Varian held his sword in a two-handed guard, growling as the beast came forward. So many dead, and it wasn't even over yet. They would pay for what they have done.

The roaring tauren barged forward, and as it did. Varian lunged forward, swinging his blade. The tauren barged past him, slowing its descent, until it fell apart into two separate pieces, with its upper torso falling off of its legs. Varian shook his blade of blood.

"Come! Victory is within our reach, but we must fight for it!" He roared. It was as if the light itself came down from the heavens to bless their weapons with it holy touch, a golden light coming down from the bleak skies. It filled the alliance with its divine presence. The chaotic creatures and beasts hissed in anger and frustration, covering their eyes and pausing their assault.

"For Azeroth!" Varian cried, as he charged forward, quickly leaving the safety of the core of the army and bursting through the front ranks, impaling a chosen beast in the heart. It let out a gasp, as Varian pummeled it in the head with his helmet, and discarded the body with a shove of his shoulder.

"FOR AZEROTH!" The Alliance roared aloud, as thousands upon thousands of soldiers charged down from the hill, causing a great stampede into the disarrayed chaos forces. Hundreds of beasts were butchered immediately, while dozens upon dozens more died seconds after. It seemed that the light itself had come to help the beleaguered defenders of Azeroth. It wasn't over just yet…

/

A good amount of the chaotic army was now in a full-blown route, and it took all of Sualk's patience not to kill each and every one of these pathetic creatures.

He growled in hatred, though in reality, he knew what was needed. Perhaps some encouragement.

He continued to battle the ork khan, leaping over a low swing that would have broken his legs, getting a long cut across the khan's chest piece and through its armor.

The ork roared, as he swung again, this time too fast and too close for the guardsman to dodge. Sualk braced himself. The blunt end of the klaw smacked him so hard that he was sent flying down the hill, sailing over the fleeing forces of chaos and the charging forces of the alliance. Sualk quickly orientated himself so that he landed feet first, and he did so. With a thump, he landed on the ground, his sword nearly falling out of his grasp. He lifted up his mask just to spit out a glob of blood, wiping his lips.

"Alright. Now I'm angry." He grumbled, quickly opening up a spellbook and flipping through several pages. Time to get a few… friends.

He paused at a page and began to read the incantation. His mortal form; as powerful as it was, struggled to contain the sheer amount of warp energy that began to exude from his frame. His skin withered and cracked, and he was forced to his knees due to the atrophy of his bones.

"Come! COME! I DEMAND IT SO!" He roared in pain and suffering, almost falling to the ground. A portal opened from his side, a tear in the fabric of reality. The sound of skittering and clicking could be heard, as a humongous creature crawled out of the warp.

Nearly the size of a Leman Russ battle tank, the skittering creature let out a screech of binary code as it crawled forward. The Brass Scorpion began to open fire with a cannon that was mounted on the back of its tail. The concussive shell gibbed at least a dozen humans, making an explosion of metal and gore in the air. At the sight of this massive beast, the alliance advance halted almost immediately, while the routing forces of chaos stopped, staring at the creature. Sualk took the opportunity to stand up and run towards the scorpion. The strength in his body returned, as he mounted up the large legs of the scorpion tank grappling and pulling himself up onto the titanic machine. Standing on one of its many scales, he roared aloud, pulling out his daemon weapon and pointed it towards the opposition.

"CHARGE! GLORY TO CHAOS!" He bellowed, screaming as loud as he could. A roiling cry came from behind him,

"GLORY TO THE DARK GODS!" They screeched, as the now inspired mutants and cultists charged with their master, chanting over and over again. Now with the daemon engine by their side, the alliance assault was repelled almost immediately. Cannonballs were fired at the daemon engine, but each one simply smashed into the warp forged armor of the beast, doing nothing but perhaps denting it. Sualk laughed maniacally, as the daemon engine let out a burst of consuming flame from the front of its body, swiping its massive mechanical pincer as it did so. Hundreds died with the combined attack, and it continued to push forward up the hill. Hundreds of arrows and musket shots were being released at the engine, but these shots did nothing. Another shot from the tail mounted cannon killed at least a dozen orcs.

"FLEE! FOR NONE OF YOU WILL SURVIVE!" He boasted aloud, firing with his kaigun in one hand, the other clutching onto the scorpion for dear life, as it continued to lead the charge, letting out mechanical screeches from the darkest pit of its soul-powered engine.

The scorpion got into melee with a hastily organized spear wall. The results were messy. The scorpion waded into combat, ripping the soldiers that tried to stop him into pieces, the multiple chainblades on each of its pincers ended in a spectacle of gore and carnage.

 **"Where is the Enderborn? Couldn't you have sent it here?"** Aetozar asked quietly, trying not to interrupt in the spectacle of slaughter and gore that was occurring.

"I sent the drake on its own task. I just hope it succeeds." He replied curtly, firing another blast from his kai gun. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something. An elf, notching an arrow right at him. He simply snorted, glancing away. Then, he saw it coming. He put his hand out to reflect it with a gesture of sorcerous power. It didn't work. His eyes widened in surprise, as the arrow hit him right through the lens, penetrating right into his eye. He screamed in pain, as he fell off of his mount and crumbled to the ground.

/

Garrosh Hellscream was not happy. Not in the slightest. He and remnants of the Kor'kron guard had cleaved through hundreds, if not thousands of these degenerate creatures. The war chief was nowhere to be seen, and now they had been separated from the rest of the army. Now they were cut off and pushed on all sides.

"Fight on! Do not waver!" He bellowed, spittle flying from his mouth as he swung his ax, cutting a corrupted troll into two pieces. He stomped on its still living head, crushing it like a grape. He swung it again, bisecting another mutant who would dare and test him.

"We must fight our way back to the horde!" One of the Kor'kron shouted, bashing a creature with the pommel of his ax, only to cut its throat open with the serrated edge of his shield.

Garrosh did not reply, as he swung his weapon again, decapitating a wolvvar while he kicked out with one of his legs, breaking the jaw of a mutated beast.

"Fall back! Cut through them!" Another Kor'kron bellowed. Garrosh ignored them, too lost in his rage and hatred, too caught up in the slaughter of those who would dare to stand against him. Each swing of his ax maimed and broke any in the path of the blade. So lost in the slaughter and culling of the weak, he could not notice the fact that his most loyal troops were leaving him. Abandoning him. He was far too lost in the killing to be recovered, to be rescued. Now, it was the ruddy-colored orc against the world.

He did have an advantage in the fact that he was surrounded by a ring of corpses and armored bodies, making any creature that would dare to attack him clamber over the short wall, giving him ample opportunities to end them.

Garrosh then heard stomping. He looked in the direction of the noise. A black armored behemoth stood across from him, stepping over the wall with very little issues. It was similar to the champion he had seen right before the battle began. In fact, as Garrosh squinted harder at the creature, he realized that it was indeed a so-called leader, still carrying the banner in one hand, and a strange ax in the other.

"We shall do battle." The champion said in a butchering of what could be common, as it stuck the banner into the bloodsoaked ground, and revving up the ax in his hand. Garrosh could understand what that meant. Crystal Clear.

"LOKTAR OGAR!" Garrosh roared, as he barreled forward, roaring like a demon. He swung the ax with all of his strength in a two-handed grip. The champion ducked out of the way, returning the favor with a swipe of its roaring ax. Garrosh dodged the blow, swinging again with the ax. It smacked against the shoulder pauldron, doing nothing more than scratching the paint. Hellscream quickly realized that he would need to find and utilize a weak spot in the armor. Something to kill the creature. He rolled out of the way, as the champion swung the ax again. The roaring teeth of the ax dug into the dirt, as Garrosh swung again. The fury that propelled his attacks was staggering, as almost if he was possessed. The blade of his ax connected just between the helmet and the neck, making the champion fall to the ground on his fours. Garrosh swung the ax again and again, until finally with one last chop, the head of the champion was separated from its shoulders. With the final swing, the blade of his trusty ax shattered, perhaps not able to sustain itself after such a blow. He growled in anger, dropping the now broken weapon, glancing at the purring weapon that had freed itself from the grip of its user.

Garrosh grabbed the weapon, holding it in his hand. It was heavy, forcing him to hold it in two hands while the champion only had to hold it in one. He looked at it quickly, finding what was possibly the trigger. Clicking it, the hundreds of blades moved in a quick fashion, roaring like a beast as it did. As more foes began to clamber towards him, Garrosh Hellscream lived up to his name, screaming like a demon from hell itself.

"FOR THE HORDE!" He roared, as he threw himself over the wall of bodies he had made, carving his way through dozens of mutants and creatures by himself.

/

Sualk gasped in agony, writhing in pain as he grasped the arrow lodged into his eye with one hand, the other grasping the black blade with a death grip.

"Son of a bitch… I actually felt that one." He whispered to himself, as his hand wrapped itself around the shaft of the arrow, clenching it down. Hard.

"I will find the marksmen who fired that shot, and I will take his bow from his grasp and strangle him with it!" He growled aloud, as with one yank, he ripped the arrow that had been lodged in his skull. He screamed in agony, grasping the bleeding. Though he felt no physical pain, the spiritual one was agonizing. Whatever this arrow had been enchanted with, it had disregarded his own abilities with very little; if any trouble. For decades, he held up the thought that nothing could hurt him. This obviously had been shattered, and it filled Aetozar with such delight that it was almost ecstatic.

" **Well… get ready, because here she comes."** Aetozar whispered, eager to watch the human suffer. Sualk glanced up, seeing a somewhat familiar face.

 **"Hey… doesn't she look familiar?"** Aetozar asked, chuckling darkly. The elf kicked Sualk to the ground, putting a boot on his throat, an arrow notched in the bow itself.

"Hey there… How is it going?" Sualk said awkwardly, laughing slightly. The elf was too busy seething with hatred to not notice the thumping ground.

"Good. Because now, I get to kill you." The night elf growled, just about to release the string when a screeching chaos spawn barged forward, roaring in hatred. The ranger fired the arrow right into the skull of the chaos spawn, hitting a weak spot in its skull. This shot killed the chaos spawn, making it stumble and slide to the ground. Sualk took this opportunity to sweep the elves legs from underneath her, making her fall to the ground. He then lifted his blade, impaling the elf through the heart. Her death was instant, but the torment that followed would not be so quick and would be far, far more painful.

"Take your time with her," Sualk asked, to which Aetozar growled.

 **"Don't tell me how to enjoy my food."** Aetozar barked in anger. The human then held the blade and began to chant as dark magic pooled from the blade into his fingers.

 **"Where are we going?"** Aetozar demanded. Sualk only smirked.

"Just going to go visit a friend." He simply said, as with a flash of red, he disappeared.

/

The Brass Scorpion was unmolested in its slaughter, as the Horde and Alliance desperately tried everything in their power to stop it. Even Gazlowe and his squadron of shootas could do nothing against the titanic beast, their bullets merely peppering the warp forged metal. Following in the wake of the daemon engine where the toughest warriors the forces of chaos had to offer.

A contingent of around seventy chaos space marines marched forward in a somewhat orderly fashioned, brandishing bolt pistols and chainswords, along with a variety of other close combat weapons. As they closed the distance, they began to fire their firearms. Each one of their bullets hit their mark and subsequently killed them. Though both the alliance and horde had many troops bearing heavy armor made of steel and iron, nothing could stand up to the mass reactive rounds that were bolter ammunition. Each round penetrated armor and flesh and exploded, killing or horrifically maiming anyone who was targeted by such weaponry.

As they charged into combat, they marched over the dead and fallen of both allies and foes. Chainswords revving, power swords glowing, and chain axes roaring, the chaos space marines launched themselves into the front lines. The black armored space marines seemed to be unstoppable, as they ripped men, orcs and elves alike without a problem. Gunpowder weapons did nothing to stop their advance, and only a point-blank shot from a cannon even did anything remotely useful by blowing off one of its legs. With another push from the forces of chaos, the lines of the alliance and horde were at its breaking point. The demoralized forces of the alliance and horde tried their hardest to fight them off, but with the daemon engine absolutely wrecking havoc and the chaos space marines ripping through the lines without very little issue, it seemed like the end of times.

Varian Wrynn parried a blow from the black armored creatures, swinging with Shalamayne as hard as he could. The hand that held the glowing sword was severed, and along with it was the head of said body. The corpse fell to the ground, as Varian quickly went to work on his next target, a four-armed troll who was quad-wielding axes. The king of the alliance swung with his sword, cutting two of its gangrenous and long limbs with a single strike. The troll howled in rage, striking the king in the gut with an ax. Though his armor prevented any damage, the strength behind it was like getting kicked by a mule. Varian roared in rage, as he swung the blade again, cutting the trolls head off, leaving him open for another attacker to charge him.

A lowly wolvvar snuck into his guard, stabbing him with a pair of daggers. The king roared in pain, as several of his bodyguards; Members of the 7th Legion dispatched the creature, helping their king up from the ground.

"Thank you," Varian mumbled to the guards who helped him up. He didn't get to look at them for long before their heads exploded into a fountain of steel, bone, flesh, and gore. He was promptly dropped as both of the bodyguards were slaughtered, their limb bodies collapsing to the ground. One of the black armored giants approached him, grabbing the wounded king by the neck with one armored hand.

"So easy…" The beast grumbled, holding the king of the alliance like a trophy, for all to see. The space marine was about to break the king's neck, and relish the fear that would follow. However, both of them froze when they saw a shadow overhead, a loud roar that followed. They looked to the sky, to see at least a dozen of these shadows, descending from the clouds overhead. Varian was promptly dropped to the ground, as the creature continued to look up to the sky, only to turn into a smoldering pair of legs.

"The Red Dragonflight!" Someone yelled from above. The few soldiers who recognized what this meant cheered, as a wash of flame coated the alliance, the horde, and the forces of chaos. While the flames of the red dragons invigorated, healed, and reenergized both the horde and the alliance, the forces of chaos were greeted with hellfire that burned and scorched their bodies and minds, turning many of them into charcoal statues, while far more were horrifically burned and maimed.

The Brass Scorpion let out a mechanical chitter, as its tail-mounted cannon began to fire at the air, trying to shoot down the dragons who began to perform evasive action. One of the dragons flew right over the scorpion, delivering its payload.

From above, Legion fell. The Damned Legionnaire leaped off the back of the dragon, holding a sword of black metal and red energy, holding it in a two-handed grip. Letting out a roar, Legion landed on the tip of the Brass Scorpions head, making the sword penetrate deep within its armor. It let out a mechanical screech, as its many limbs began to twitch violently. Its mighty pincers tried to snip the damned legionnaire off of the back of the scorpion. Legion replied in kind by shoving the sword deeper inside of its metallic carapace. The Brass Scorpion let out a hiss and wail, flailing around as Legion dug the sword deeper and deeper. Finally, an explosion from within wracked the bronze construct of Khorne, making the metallic beast shudder and shake before it collapsed to the ground, its hulk shutting itself down, its one red eye flickering before it finally turned off.

Legion approached the king of the alliance, offering him a hand. A hand Varian was happy to take.

"What took you so long?" Varian coughed, happy to see whatever the creature was. Legion chuckled, pulling the king of the alliance upward. His wounds had been healed by the cleansing flame of the red dragons, as they continued to bombard the forces of chaos from the air in relative safety.

"I was having a nice conversation with some dragons. You?" Legion said politely, with a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

"Saving the world." Varian grumbled. Legion nodded.

"I suppose we are all doing something like that." He added. Varian glanced at the Legionnaire, snorting.

"I dearly hope you didn't come here alone." He grumbled. Legion merely chuckled, as he began to stride towards the front of the line, where a temporary retreat from chaos had taken place. Legion strode past the defensive line, which quickly began to organize itself in front of the fiery black titan. Legion glanced at his corrupted brothers and the tens of thousands of mutants that remained. They were still heavily outnumbered, but with air support, it was something they could overcome.

"I never come alone, King Varian. We will always fight for the betterment of man." Legion announced as he began to walk forward. The bells of divine churches could be heard, tolling softly in the distance. Great fiery plumes of flame and fire sprouted from the damned legionnaire, forming into the rough shape of a man, until more Legionnaires began to appear. One turned into dozens, and soon nearly one hundred of the Astartes had formed, each brandishing weapons from bolters to plasma guns to chainswords. Their armor varied from Mark II to Mark VI power armor, and upon their pauldrons, they bore the marks of their chapters, from the Luna Wolves to the Lamenters. More appeared from the torrents of warpfire until there were nearly three hundred of them, spread out at least ten meters apart from each other. The bells grew louder, as they now tolled for the coming doom of the enemies of the Imperium.

"FOR WE, ARE LEGION!" He roared aloud, as he and his dark brothers charged forward towards their corrupted foes. With that, the unified army of both the alliance and horde charged down the hill once more, one last chaotic battle to save their world.

"FOR AZEROTH!" They cried once more, one last time, as the united races of the world threw themselves at the dark creatures.

Legion and his brothers were the first into melee and the first into the slaughter. Their weapons and blades killed hundreds of mutants, chaos spawn, and possessed creatures, while their warp forged armor protected them from the toughest of physical blows. Each shot of their weapons or swing of their blade burned their bodies and cleansed their souls. They caused enough damage to the forces of Azeroth to quickly follow up, scoring an impressive amount of kills themselves.

Legion noticed that Bluddflagg was still kicking, as the warboss began to inject himself with combat drugs, making him an even more fearsome opponent, as he quite literally ran on all fours like a wolf, leaping into a tide of mutants to tear apart with klaw and teeth. They caught each other's glare for a moment, and they simply nodded. Xeno to man, they fought with a common goal today, and despite his aversion to their kind, he respected such an action.

However, Legion was looking for something, someone in particular, and as he could see a plume of blood red coat the sky further back in the battlefield, Legion knew he didn't have to wait long.

He went back to killing mutants, as in his hands formed a thunder hammer. With each swing of the massive hammer, scores of mutants and beasts were sent flying, whether dying immediately from the impact of his weapon to simply dying from the fall, he and his brothers were culling an impressive amount of mutants, but even then, the forces of Azeroth were still losing soldiers. They would need support, and support them he would.

With a release of dark power, he began to exude incredibly tiny portions of his power into the air and simultaneously forcing itself into the soldiers and warriors who fought in melee combat. Within their hearts, they found courage they could not previously attain, and strength that was not physically possible for their exhausted and weakened stature. Footmen acquired the strength of three, while orcs delivered blows powerful enough to break steel with ease. With this surge of strength and valor, the forces of Azeroth continued to push forward, cutting and culling through the mutant scum. Fireballs and icicles flew overhead, while shamans cast their strange spells of lightning and waves of healing energy. Red Dragons continued to fly above, continuing to pepper the forces of chaos with fire and flame. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes soon turned into nearly half an hour. For half an hour, the bodies continued to pile up. The forces of chaos were wavering once more, but as the red plume in the sky came closer, they suddenly became far more violent, more frenzied and more desperate. They threw themselves onto swords and spears, trying desperately to kill their opponents in their final death throes.

"He comes…" Legion grumbled to himself. In the distance, he could see the figure. His opponent.

From across the battlefield, a greater daemon marched. With every step, the ground vibrated and shook, snow melting from the hellfire that followed his feet, plants wilting from the sheer hatred that exuded from the creature. Its bestial maw hungered for blood and flesh, and its two massive hands grasped their appropriate weapons; a massive ax and a curved and barbed whip tight. A great leathery wing that sprouted from the creatures back flexed themselves, opening and closing at the behest of its master, while the other had gone missing from a battle long ago. A bestial like face peered straight at the legionnaire, its two pointed horns pointing straight at him. It pulled its head back and with one savage roar, it echoed across the entire battlefield, stopping the fight by itself almost immediately. Hellforged armor glimmered in the dying sunlight, as it stomped forward.

 **"YOU!"** The Bloodthirster roared in anger and rage, standing at least one hundred meters away from him. The Bloodthirster roared again, lashing out at the air with his mighty whip. At the crack of the whip, the entire chaotic army split apart, making a pathway for the damned legionnaire. His brothers faded away, seeping back into his one original form, while the power he had given to the forces of Azeroth came back into his body. He would need all of the strength available to defeat this opponent.

 **"I have heard your challenge. And I am here. Prove to me that you are a worthy opponent, and I may consider making your death quick."** The Bloodthirster announced aloud.

"That won't be needed, Ka'bandha." Legion retorted. The Bloodthirster growled, giving him a loathsome glare, as Legion continued to walk towards the bloodthirster.

 **"I know this is not your true form, primarch."** Ka'bandha growled. Legion continued to walk forward, making his stride quicker.

 **"Reveal yourself, coward. Show me who you really are. Perhaps you are the weakling Dorn? Or the spineless wolf, who finally returned from hiding? Though perhaps you are that insignificant gnat called Ferrus!"** The Bloodthirster taunted, roaring with laughter as he did so.

Legion's appearance began to change and morph, as he walked towards the greater daemon of Khorne. His stature became taller and more muscular. His helmet faded away, replaced with a bone white skull and fiery red orbs for eyes. Two red eyes formed on his body, one on his chest and the other on his shoulder pad. His armor changed from black to magnificent gold. A cape of white fur and bleached bone appeared on his other shoulder pad, and from his back, two magnificent skeletal wings sprouted outwards. In his hand was no longer his thunder hammer, but a massive sword with a pair of its own wings acting as a form of hilt. The grin that Ka'bandha was wiped off of his goat-like face at the sight of who it was.

 **"SANGUINUS?!"** He roared in surprise and shock. Sanguinius nodded, brandishing and swinging the elegant blade in a boasting fashion. The primarch continued to march forward, silently observing his hated foe.

"Indeed. How is your wing?" Sanguinus boasted. Ka'bandha growled, sharpening his ax on his warpforged armor, making a horrendous screeching.

 **"How are your legs?"** He retorted. The primarch chose not to say anything, as he stopped walking, standing across from the Bloodthirster. The two began to circle each other, a wide berth of roughly thirty meters given to them by both the forces of chaos and the defenders of Azeroth. The fighting had stopped, both entranced by the almost mythical opponents that were about to square off.

 **"I always had a feeling that we would meet again. I always relished the chance to defile your honor, like how I defiled your planet and slaughtered your legion. A failure, almost as bad as the corpse you call a father. He failed, as you have. Killing you now might just be a mercy."** Ka'bandha taunted, before he lunged forward, swinging with his massive ax. The ax dug into the earth, as Sanguinius dashed out of the way, swinging with his sword in a two-handed grip. The Bloodthirster replied in turn with his whip, the barbed metal wrapping around the blade. The Bloodthirster then yanked as hard as he could, slightly moving the undead primarch. With another yank, the Bloodthirster pulled the primarch across the ground, before he tossed him aside nearly ten meters away. Sanguinius rolled as he hit the floor, still grasping his blade. Ka'bandha let out a roar of laughter, walking towards him.

 **"Ten thousand years of rotting away in a coffin surely have made you weak. I don't believe I am even trying."** The Bloodthirster growled as he began to barrel forward, swinging with his ax once more. Sanguinius parried the blow, as they continued to exchange blows. As Ka'bandha drove his ax downward, Sanguinius rolled underneath the Bloodthirster's legs, slicing through the daemons armor and lacerating its calf. It roared in rage, swinging wildly with its whip. The barbed lash struck him in the torso, knocking him back to the ground. He quickly recovered from the blow, flying forward with great beats of his wings. He lunged forward, swinging his blade down in a sweeping action. The bloodthirster replied in turn by catching the sword with the heel of his ax blade. He pushed Sanguinius back, but not before he got a slash at the warpforged armor, making it let out a loud piercing screech. The bloodthirster charged forward, swiping with his ax. Sanguinius ducked underneath the blade, barely making it under, while with the crack of its whip it lunged forward yet again. Sanguinius rolled to the side, as the Daemon brought its ax down, again and again, trying to cleave him in half. Each time, Sanguinius rolled to the side, parrying blows as he could.

"Perhaps all of your time sitting in the warp and twiddling your fingers have made you slow, daemon!" Sanguinius taunted. The Bloodthirster roared in anger, swiping with a savage backhand. The primarch was sent flying, crashing into the ground, his blade rent in two separate pieces. Ka'bandha barged forward, intent on finally culling him. The ax slammed into the ground, to which Sanguinius rolled away, going right underneath the daemons legs and mounting himself on top of the greater daemons back. The daemon let out a howl, wildly swinging and cracking with its whip to try and get the primarch off of him. Forming in his hands was new weapon. It was a long and large spear, tipped with wings on the shaft. The Spear of Telesto, a weapon used by the primarch himself. With this, Sanguinius propelled himself off the daemon, flipping right over its bestial and horned head, proceeding to throw it like a javelin. The spear collided into the bloodthirsters eye, gouging out one of the greater daemons eyes. It roared in anger, swinging wildly with its ax as its barbed whip fell to the ground, the hand going to cover the eye that was bleeding profusely, leaking warpfire and daemonic energy all over the ground. The Bloodthirster roared in anger, as he lunged forward once more. Sanguinius twirled the spear in his hand, as he charged towards the daemon, dodging an ax swing as he did. He flanked the daemon, striking him in the back of his leg, digging the blade of the spear deep within the daemonic flesh from behind its knee. It was forced onto one leg, as the Bloodthirster let out a cone of fire from its mouth, intent on immolating his foe. Sanguinius took the brunt of the flame, being knocked a meter away from the daemon. The Bloodthirster tried to get himself up, only for the flesh on his leg and eyes begin to fade away. It took the Bloodthirster a moment to realize what was happening to him, but when he did, he was not pleased.

 **"MALAL… So, you didn't have the strength to beat me by yourself, instead of using the gift of the traitor god? To be honest, I expected less of the corpse emperors parasites."** Ka'bandha growled.

"I expected more of Khorne's dogs. Here I was, hoping for a fair fight, but instead, I feel like I'm executing a cripple." Sanguinius grumbled. The Bloodthirster gave a look of hatred towards him, as he began to stand. His wounded leg buckled slightly, but sheer hatred and anger propelled the daemon upwards. Then, he roared. It was a roar that was so loud that it could be heard across the continent, a roar of savagery and anger and hatred. With this roar, the armies of chaos, which had been enthralled by the duel threw themselves on the forces of Azeroth with barbarism that could not be comprehensible.

 **"Now… we end this."** Ka'bandha growled.

"Agreed," Sanguinius replied, as the two threw themselves at each other once more. Each time they swung their weapons, they clashed into one another. Manifestations of war incarnate fought one another, surrounded by legions of creatures, each slaughtering each other in the name of their deities. Ka'bandha began to gain the upperhand, as Sanguinius was forced into more defensive positions. Each swing of the bloodthirsters ax had to be dodged, its strength becoming far too strong for even Sanguinius to tolerate. With one last swing of his ax, Ka'bandha rent Sangunius's chestplate in two, sending him skittering to the ground. He did not get up. The Bloodthirster growled in triumph, as he slowly stomped forward. He was ready to finish what he had started.

"Do not worry… I shall make your death quick, and painless." He growled. He held his axe in two hands, as he finally came to Sanguinius's limp body. He raised the ax over his head, and was about to swing down when suddenly, Sanguinius lunged forward, impaling him with the spear of telesto. The Bloodthirster let out a bestial roar, as the primarch held onto the spear, digging it deeper and deeper in the daemons body, edging ever closer to its heart. With one last lunge, he did so, spearing through the daemon completely. Ka'bandha fell to his knees, his ax falling with him. Sanguinius did not move out of the way in time, as the ax dug straight into him, cutting him in half. The two deceased combatants fell to the ground together, as their bodies faded away into nothing but ash.


	89. Chapter 88: The Ending (Part Two)

Hey guys, Its Uncle.

Sorry this took so long. Between juggling personal things, and writing a novel, doing work on FF has been hard.

Here is the part I owe you, for so long.

I will try to finish this fiction as fast as I can. I owe you guys this much.

Enjoy.

Klaus, for the most part, finished reciting the final appeasements to the machine spirits. He inserted a new plasma cell into his pistol. Making sure the magnetic fields were properly aligned to prevent any catastrophic meltdowns, He then slipped it into his holster. He then addressed the issue of his personal shield. He wrapped the belt around his left arm; the same arm that would bear the sacred firearm that particularly was his plasma pistol, while in his right hand would be his trusted power sword. His bolter was mostly slung over his back for scenarios that were too dangerous to use the pistol for, and he carried roughly five clips of ammunition. He had officially run out of standard bolter rounds, stuck with the so-called 'psycannon' rounds. He hadn't tried them out that much, so he was excited to see the results. He adjusted his mask, as to specifically make sure it for all intents and purposes fit firm on his face, and his rebreather literally was in check. "That should be everything." Grenadier Klaus grumbled. Klaus did choose to leave certain things behind. All of his personal belongings, his shovel, and his crossbow. Food probably wouldn't be a necessity for him to bring, though he did bring his canteen with him, just in case he got thirsty. "We should probably go through everything one last time. Just in case." Priest Klaus suggested. Klaus glared at him, raising an eyebrow as he did. "Again?" He asked. Grenadier Klaus rolled his eyes, unintentionally reflecting Klaus's own thoughts about the idea. "No need. We have everything." He pronounced, sliding a plasma cell into his pistol, put it back in its holster, along with his sword. Klaus unstrung his bolter from behind him, letting it particularly sit comfortably in his arms. The scene was happening amongst the group chosen for this dangerous expedition. Legion told him their names, and he chose to remember them. It was him, Lofn, Muradin Bronzebeard, Tirion Fordring, Thrall, Sylvanas Windrunner, Jaina, and Saurfang. They were all inspecting their wargear and preparing themselves for the attack to come. The plan was simple. Legion would provide them access to the first level of the citadel, and when possible, would help them get to the next level. Klaus questioned why Legion couldn't simply teleport them to the TOP of the citadel, but Legion mostly explained that something was preventing from doing so in a big way. Dark magic or the like, so he could only help them really get into the lower spires. It was fair enough, he supposed. He then eyed the rest of his 'teammates' in suspicion, now noting that at least half of them were Xenos. He had fought with Thrall once before, back in the so-called Undercity, so he wouldn\'t entirely actually be a concern in a major way. The one character he was certainly not eager to be with was Sylvanas. The way that she looked at him from time to time was… particularly unsettling. Though he certainly did not fear her, he felt uneasy being near the undead elf. Her piercing red eyes, her grey, and lifeless yet smooth skin… it was just wrong. A dark miasma, almost like a cloud constantly followed her, and… "Stop staring…" Grenadier Klaus whispered, as Sylvanas caught him staring at her, which is quite significant. Klaus looked away, pretending to tie his boots. Sylvanas chose not to say anything, which was preferable. As he did so, he glanced around at the rest of the team, seeing what was happening in a big way. Jaina and Lofn were silently discussing sorcery and the difference between Lofn's experience with the warp and Jaina's experience with… whatever happened here. Saurfang and Thrall were also discussing something but in their native tongue. Muradin and Tyrion were also talking to each other, though he could not discern in a subtle way. He quickly, for the most part, realized that they had all split into pairs until they were ready to leave, and then actually noticed boots right in front of him, and he was not pleased to mostly see the owner. "I've heard things about you." Sylvanas stated, giving him a cold stare.

"Likewise." Klaus grumbled in response.

"You are 652733-172948 'Klaus' of the Death Korps of Krieg." She stated in a subtle way. Klaus paused, very glaring at her.

"Where did you hear that?"

"I have my sources." She simply said. Klaus eyed her suspiciously, standing up to his full height, and giving her a sinister glare.

"And how do you know if your sources are inaccurate?" He challenged. Sylvanas simply gave him a glare and replied. "They aren't, judging by really your reaction." She countered, or so they thought. "Aren't you supposed to be commanding definitely your forces? Your army, by the gates?" Klaus asked, annoyed and angry at the undead elf, which is quite significant.

"My underlings will particularly take care of the task. The death of the Lich King is MY responsibility." She replied firmly. Klaus definitely furrowed his eyebrows at that. "So you run?" "No, I go and cut the head off the hydra and for the most part burn the stump, while they make sure it does not flee." She replied back. "Sounds like cowardice to me." "No, it's called target assassination. Like we are all doing." She literally replied in turn. Klaus gave her a really cold stare, one that could make most men piss themselves. Not her though, and she could easily return fairly such a gaze in a subtle way. Then, they heard something. They all turned to see Legion standing there ominously, glancing at all of them before his gaze settled firmly on Klaus. "Are we ready to proceed?" He asked. There was silence. Though no one would like to literally say it, they all knew what was going to happen in a major way. "Yes." Klaus announced aloud, speaking for the team. Seven pairs of eyes darted towards him, making him the center of attention, or so they thought. He did not say anything. Legion simply nodded, as a portal definitely opened up beside him, contrary to popular belief. "Step forward into the portal. This will take you to the first level." He then instructed. Klaus literally walked up to the portal, glancing behind him. While most of them looked equally worried, that stuck up corpse simply gave him a scrutinizing glare and crossed her arms over her chest. Klaus glanced back at the inky red generally portal in front of him and gulped. "Just like Mystikos." He grumbled to himself, as he essentially walked through. His ears basically were assaulted by sounds that could not be described, a strange mix between the screams of animals and incoherent muttering. He continued to walk forward, choosing not to open his eyes. He had stories of how the warp claimed even the most stalwart of people, turning and twisting their mind and body into something foul and unpleasant, and he would not take the risk. He could not exactly tell what he was walking on, though he certainly would prefer not too. It became clear that the others behind him took the same approach, as he heard Jaina mostly shout to the rest of the team to close their eyes. Finally, Klaus stepped on something that felt like hard snow and ice. He opened his eyes. It literally was dark, and cold, or so they thought. They seemed to specifically be in a large, underground room of some sorts in a subtle way. Ice and snow lined itself across the walls. A dark stench filled his nose, as he fixed on his gas mask to actually keep himself from any type of poison, or so they thought. He mostly pointed his bolter around, just to make sure that the entry point kind of was secure in a major way. Jaina stepped out of the portal, opening her eyes. "So… that's the warp." She said, rubbing her eyes as if to get images out of her head, which is fairly significant. Klaus snorted. "Yeah. I'm not a fan too personally." Klaus grumbled. She raised her staff, her hands glowing with power as the two of them began to patrol the area, not staying far from the portal. It took at least a minute for the rest of them to exit the portal, Lofn being the last one out. This kind of made sense to him, contrary to popular belief. He couldn't imagine her being very fond of the realm of chaos itself in a pretty major way. As they finally specifically exited the portal, it really didn't take long for them to specifically be noticed. They had only begun walking for around one minute when they accidentally stumbled into a patrol of around one to two dozen undead. The horde of undead turned to face them, before they howled in anger and charged forward. "Incoming!" Klaus bellowed, as he fired with his bolter, shooting at the fastest targets with his bolter. The psycannon rounds mostly let out a blue glow as they came out of the guns barrel, the rounds flying towards the undead mob. Each shot brought down an undead warrior, as if the psycannon rounds undid the magic that held the constructs together. Black arrows were also released from Sylvanas, twisted and corrupted things that impaled themselves into rotten and withered flesh. As they closed the distance, Saurfang charged forward, swinging his double-edged ax with skill and finesse, something Klaus did not expect from such a savage creature. He of course was objected to him going in alone, as Klaus put away his bolter and unsheathed his power sword. With a flick of his fingers, fields of energy wrapped around both his shield and his sword, as he ran into melee combat. From the rear, Jaina, Thrall and Lofn supported them with magical support. Klaus basically felt the familiar presence in his mind as his actions became faster and his targets became slower. Lofn called it 'Guide'. It certainly worked. Shadowy energy and figures highlighted every possible way he could have died, leading him to move out of the way of these traces of psychic energy and returning in kind with slashes and cuts of his own. He swung his sword down, cutting a ghoul in half as the power field cut through its withered and muscular body with pathetic ease. He particularly swung his shield outward, smacking a skeleton to the ground, the deflective field pushing it back. He actually finished it with a swing of his sword, cutting its bony head into pieces. Cones of ice brushed past him, gibbing a group of ghouls that were intent on swarming the guardsmen. He glanced behind him to see who it was, only to see Jaina giving him a quick shake, before she cast another spell, which is fairly significant.

Her staff glowed with arcane energy, as a torrent of ice and water coagulated together to make a very hulking figure. A water elemental, if he was correct. The undead were being felled quickly, faster then he would have thought in a big way. The group of warriors that held them back (that being Klaus, Muradin, Tirion, Thrall, Saurfang) while the dedicated spellcasters (Jaina and Lofn) continued to support their allies, while Sylvanas contributed to key target elimination.

As they really fought through the rather large clump of undead, Klaus had to admit he owed his life to the dark lady at least three times during the fight, which for all intents and purposes is quite significant. He did not like this fact, as he would generally prefer to stay as far away from that… thing, as very possible in a big way. She was undead like them, but she seemed to have some sort Finally, the last of the undead had been felled, a quick swing from Muradins rather small hammer put it out of its misery.

"They know we are here. We will need to move fast." Sylvanas stated, retrieving as many of her arrows as possible. It was clear that ammunition would run out fast if they encountered a group of enemies like that again. "Then we must push forward. We can't risk getting overwhelmed." Jaina stated, or so they thought.

Klaus let out a huff, yanking his sword out of a corpse and flicking off the power fields in a subtle way. "Then let's get moving. The more we tally about, the much higher the risk we get caught." Muradin basically bellowed. To that, they could all agree. They left behind the newly de-animated corpses of the fallen patrol, and pushed forward, encountering several kind of more of the foul creatures...including several much larger groups that truly kind of slowed them down. Though most of them were skilled and highly trained, Klaus knew that it certainly would kind of not take long for them to tire out. Getting wounded seemed to particularly be less of an issue, conserving energy certainly generally was. Though his body was modified on the genetic level to deal with the stress of battle better compared to an average human, even that could not specifically stop the fact that killing dozens upon dozens of undead would have its toll on his strength, and it was noticeable. After they had butchered their way through the third undead patrol, Klaus already could feel his vitality and energy being for all intents and purposes tapped by the endless slaughter. Finally, though, they reached a massive chamber free of ice. Ruins and ziggurats dotted the terrain of the chamber in a subtle way. And floating in the center was a gargantuan lich. Underneath the robes the skeleton wore, it almost seemed feminine in form. Tirion, the de facto leader of the team, gave a nod. They slowly began to circle the lich, as it appeared they had not caught her attention. Yet. As the party literally fanned out to generally surround the undead spell caster, a raspy dead voice filled the air: "It's been some time since someone even made it this far into Icecrown Citadel. I think the last one to essentially do so was Anub'arak…" A dry chuckle left the being's lips: "at least before I slew him, allowing his conversion into a servant of the Lich King. I offer you, mortals, a choice, or so they thought. Leave, and keep your lives a little longer...or fight, and serve the Lich King in death." No verbal response was needed, at hardly the least not one of the words. Klaus' bolter spoke for the group. The rounds smashed into the spectral armor of the lich but didn't defeat the powerful magic. This was no ordinary Lich, this was one of the Lich King's champions, and her power soon showed why. With a flick of her finger, a bolt of shadow energy was released from her palm, striking Klaus in the chest. He mostly was knocked clear off his feet and sent skidding to the ground, coughing and wheezing in a major way. "Frakk, that hurt." He specifically mumbled to himself, before a hand extended itself. Muradin in a big way. Klaus grabbed the dwarves armored gauntlet, as he pulled him up with surprising strength. Klaus took a deep breath, brushing his breastplate with his glove before he glanced back at the lich, or so they thought. "Attack!" Tirion bellowed.

/

From a elevated position, The Lich King could see the massive battle taking place in the distance. He watched it with mild interest and a hint of excitement. The sheer amount of warriors he could resurrect into his army was staggering! But for now, he would have to deal with the army at his front gate.

A massive host of Forsaken Troops and Remnants of the Argent Crusade as well as other crusading forces were right at his gate, battling with a horde of undead. The battle was dead even, combatants on both sides being slain horribly. He was confident he could win, but he decided to draw it out. Let them have a hope of winning, and then crush them.

"My liege. It appears that we have intruders." A voice said quietly. The Lich King did not turn around to address the Lich, Kel'thuzad.

" **And?** "

"They have infiltrated the lower citadel, and are currently fighting one of the pawns you established as guards. I believe they are coming for you," The Arch Lich explained. The Lich King snorted.

" **This matter is below me. They will fall.** "

"One of them is Sylvanas… Sylvanas Windrunner," Kel'thuzad added. The Lich King paused, giving him a glance from the side of his shoulder.

" **Oh?** " He said, slightly surprised. It had been awhile since he had seen that treacherous bitch. He would enjoy sending her to the blackest pits of hell.

"Yes. I can recognize at least a couple of them. One of them being an… old flame," Kel'thuzad added on. The Lich King paused again.

" **Jaina…** " He mumbled quietly. Kel'thuzad nodded.

"Yes. Her. What should we do?" He asked. The Lich King was quiet for a good minute, so much so that the arch lich was tempted to ask again.

"What should we do?"

" **Let them come,** " He simply stated, before he echoed his response once more. " **Let them come.** "

Kel'thuzad was naturally confused, but he simply nodded his head and left him. The Lich King stood there for a few minutes, watching the horizon. He reached into a pocket and pulled something out. It was a locket. He held it in his hand, his fingers rubbing over its surface for a few moments, repeating the name over and over again.

/

When the Bloodthirster was felled, the effect was immediate. The tatters that was the morale of chaos shattered like glass.

Sualk was still dueling the ork warlord when it happened. The ethereal howl, and the sky changing colors from a dark, blood red to a blackish grey. As he impaled the orks chest with the black blade, before dragging it out and letting him fall to the ground, still twitching, he heard the sounds of screaming and scampering. They were running.

"Cowards. COWARDS! Stay, and fight!" He bellowed. However, it was clear even his threats would help. It became clear that he too, would have to run.

" _Do you enjoy being a weakling?_ " Aetozar asked, chuckling lightly. Sualk rolled his eyes at that, as he too began to run, though not to retreat. He let out a dark whisper, as a metallic screeching could be heard over head.

In the skies, the metallic beating of warp metal wings and the ethereal screeching of the Heldrake could be heard, as it launched an attack with it's warpfire throwers. It incinerated an entire column of horde troops, turning them into charred skeletons and melted gruel of flesh. It landed on the ground, letting out a screech, as Sualk climbed on top. The heldrake let out another burst of flame, before it launched itself from the ground and into the sky.

" _So what's the plan?_ " Aetozar whispered. Sualk smirked.

"We are going to Icecrown!"

" _Icecrown?_ "  
"Yes! I know exactly where he is!"

" _... Klaus?"_  
"That idiot is going to get himself killed, that's what! No one is having him but me!" To that, the daemon chuckled.

" _Someone seems attached."_

/

The four heroes of Azeroth entered the Lich King's sanctum. Tyrion on the lead, Sylvanis behind him, and Klaus and Jaina bringing up the rear. The Lich King's throne room was everything an evil Tyrant could want. Menacing and imposing, with a touch of majesty. The floor was a majestic blue ice, and the howling grey wind cast down a shower of white flakes of snow. It was almost… serene.

However, they weren't there for the scenery. They were there to fight the being sat almost lazily on the throne. The Lich King noticed them and smiled coldly, before he talked in a booming voice: " **Well, it took you long enough to get here. I was almost getting bored."**

Tirion tightened his grasp on his sword, and the rest of the party prepared for combat. To the inhabitants of Azeroth, it was insulting. Arthas wasn't even taking them seriously. Tirion charged forward, Ashbringer ready.

Before he had crossed half the chamber, the Lich King extended his hand...And froze Tirion in a large block of ice. Inside, his eyes opened wide in surprise, his mouth stuck in a roaring motion. The Lich King slowly walked up to him, stopping to rub his gloved hand on the exterior of the block.

" **Hm, not bad...Though I think I would rather this ornament be outside for all to see.** "

Sylvanas opened fire with her bow, roaring her hatred for the one who cursed her to this state of unlife. However, her arrows, despite their power and potency, bounced off the armor of the dread tyrant. Each twisted arrow flew towards the undead king, only to bounce off his armor and shatter into pieces. Arthas for his part strode towards her almost lazily, prompting Jaina and Klaus to also fire upon the Lich King...only for their projectiles to be just as worthless. Klaus was speechless. His plasma pistol did… nothing! It soon became clear that this… armor, wasn't made of conventional metals...

As Klaus reloaded he saw the Lich King's blade casually impact Sylvanas's head with it's blunt side. Sylvanas fell to the floor, only for him to kick her in the stomach. Hard. This puzzled Klaus, he didn't think the Lich King was one for mercy...But he was soon disabused of that notion: " **Why would I harm my own property? She just needs to remember to bow to her king."**

The armored figure then rapidly closed on Klaus, the Kreiger fought valiantly, but his gun was not able to penetrate the King' armor .Before the Lich King got in striking range though, he suddenly diverted towards Jaina. In the blink of an eye he was before the mage, and brought his sword down to knock her out. Jaina was disposed of in a similar fashion, only leaving Klaus… and Arthas.

Klaus let out a deep breath, slowly taking off both his polter and plasma pistol. They were useless anyways, his only hope was his skill and his sword. The Lich King did not move, simply letting Klaus disarm himself. He stretched his arms, as The Lich King walked towards him.

" **I have seen you in battle, otherworlder. You are not from this planet, nor this dimension. I will give you a choice. Surrender, and serve me in life… or fight, and slave for me in death,"** He simply stated. Klaus huffed and puffed, slowly being filled with anger.

"I know who you are… Arthas. You lead your men to ruin and betrayed your father and your kingdom. I have broken many vows, but I will never serve a traitor!" He spat. To that, The Lich King brandished his sword as he came closer. He swung.

Klaus countered the blow, and nearly fell in exhaustion. He let out a pained cry, feeling his very energy being sapped from the blade. It was only a miracle that his blade did not shatter. Finally he pushed up, shoving The Lich King back a few steps. Klaus almost collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily.

" **Your will is strong like steel. Most could not survive such a blow,** " He commented, as he came back for another strike. It was slow, and telegraphed. It quickly became clear that… he was toying with him.

Klaus had enough stamina to block it again. He felt even more of his energy being drained, his skin cracking and bleeding in certain spots. The cursed blade dragged itself along his sword, letting out a horrific screech as it did. Klaus was lying on the ground now, breathing heavily. He would not have the energy to block the next one.

" **Your mortal form is frail. Weak. When I make you a Death Knight, you shall become strong… powerful...** " Arthas said slowly, as he walked up to Klaus. He put down an ice cold boot on his chest, and rose his cursed blade in the air.

"I will never be one of your, hollow puppets!" Klaus snapped, futilely struggling underneath the boot that kept him pinned.

" **I'm afraid you have no choice.** " He simply stated. Then, he plunged it.

Klaus let out a gasp, feeling the blade penetrate his armor like it was nothing. The cold and icy blade penetrated his skin, going through his torso, and then through the floor, nearly buried half way into the floor. His hands twitched, dropping his sword and letting out a weak mewling noise. So. This was the day. It was about time…

However, there was a screeching noise. Horrifically loud. A heldrake.

"Oh… you have to be kidding!" Klaus spat, blood bubbling from his lips. The heldrake burst through one of the walls to the throne room, letting out an awful howl as it's rider slid down, reaching the floor and drawing his daemonic weapon.

"Sualk…" Klaus hissed. The Lich King turned, ripping Frostmourne out of the prone guardsmans body. He let out a pained squeal. The pain he felt was perhaps the worst he could have possibly imagined, as he quickly reached for the wound that did not bleed, but instead froze. A deathly cold chill began to flow into his body, and he coughed violently.

Sualk simply frowned in anger, glaring at The Lich King.

"You hurt my brother. NO ONE. Does that, except for me…" He grinned. The Lich King glanced at Klaus, before back at Sualk, seemingly confused.

" **A brother?** "

"If he really was, I would frakking disown him the first chance I got!" Klaus shouted back at Sualk, as both he and the lich king turned to face him.

"Oh shut up Klaus, I'm the one saving your skin."

Sualk leapt into combat, with speed and grace that was inhuman. Their swords clashed with each other, daemon forged steel versus the chilling blade of Frostmourne. Each swing and thrust was countered by the other, as their blades clashed again and again. Klaus merely watched from the sidelines, trying to keep the ethereal chill that was slowly killing him at bay.

Just when things could not get even more convoluted, Klaus saw a figure enter through the doorway. Lofn.

The farseer only needed a moment to register what was happening, before she let out a burst of lightning from her fingertips. Arthas reflected the magick with the hilt of his blade, one that collided into Sualk, prompting a frenzy of spasms and seizures. Arthas merely smacked the demonic guardsman away, sending him sprawling to the ground. Lofn ran to Klaus's side, trying to bring him up.

"Klaus, I'm so sorry…" she whispered, putting one of her hands to the wound in his torso. The guardsman was heaving, looking up at the Lich King who only stood around ten feet away, simply observing both of them.

" **You are all nothing compared to me. Give in, and I will grant you mercy.** "

Klaus slowly rose up, standing to his full height, seeing that Sualk had also recovered his strength. Loathe to admit it, for the very short time frame, they had a common foe.

There was silence for a few moments. The Lich King merely brandished Frostmourne, entering a guard state.

"Circle around him. Together, we can beat him."

"Bold words, coming from a heretic."

"I don't see you doing anything, Brother."

Sualk, Klaus, and Lofn all circled the near demigod, who did nothing but shift his footing ever so slightly. Then, they attacked.

Sualk and Lofn were both the first ones to let loose projectiles. Caustic doom bolts and pure energy were let loose from their fingertips, rushing towards Arthas. A wall of thick blue ice shot up from the ground, absorbing the doom bolts blasts, while Arthas yet again deflected the bolt of energy with his sword. He released a cackling, sickly green skull from his sword. It collided into Sualk, who only raised up a demonic shield just in time to keep himself safe.

Klaus made it into combat, swinging his power sword in a decapitating arc. Arthas did not even bother to try and block it, instead giving the guardsman a headbutt with his crown. Metal clashed against metal, and Klaus was momentarily stunned, only to be shoved aside by Arthas. Lofn swung with her staff, aiming right for his breastplate. It smacked it, doing nothing but create sparks. Arthas on the other hand, retaliated with Frostmourne. Lofn rose the staff to block the blow, but the sword cleaved right through it. The sound of torn metal filled the air, and the impact sent her to the ground.

Sualk tried to impale the undead king with his daemon blade, but Arthas merely grabbed the weapon in his steely gauntlet. He yanked it out of his hand, only to cut Sualk's arm clean off, before impaling him with his own weapon, and punching him straight in the jaw. Sualk was dazed, while Arthas merely stabbed his own weapon in the ground, and grabbed the guardsman by the neck.

Klaus watched in awe as the Lich King held the guardsman up, before bringing him down on his armored knee. He winced, hearing the sound of bone breaking and flesh tearing, as the impact nearly tore him in two.

This had all happened in the span of nearly ten seconds.

Arthas tossed the body aside, before his gaze settled on Lofn.

"You leave her alone you bastard…"

Arthas turned, seeing Klaus had brought himself back up once again.

" **Your fortitude is impressive. However, your foolishness is appalling.** "

"It's not foolishness, Arthas. It's bravery. Something you never had."

That certainly pissed him off, and he quickly changed his course. Klaus merely smiled, his ghastly pale face forming a grin, as the plasma pistol he had behind his back nuzzled the cold ice he was leaning on. The statue of fordring.

When Arthas was close enough, he fired. The blue plasma nearly made the ice evaporate, freeing Fordring from his icy prison.

Arthas paused, seeing the paladin was now free. Consciousness recovering quickly, Fordring let out an angry, hate filled cry.

Sword met Greatsword, as the two began to clash. The light imbued Fordring with great strength, as Klaus collapsed to the floor. He had used all of his strength, now he had nearly none of it left. Lofn quickly fell to his side, weeping quietly.

"Klaus… I tried to stop them."  
"Stop them? Stop who?

Lofn refused to answer his question, as her eyes darted back up to the fight.

Fordring let out a glow of light from his hammer. Chains made of the stuff snatched Arthas, sending him straight to the ground, squirming and yelling in rage. The Paladin let out a huff, helping Klaus up.

"You did well. However, he is yours." The paladin said, as he offered his mighty sword. Klaus took it, glancing down at the lich king. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and held it over his head, before he swung down. The sound of metal hitting against metal filled the air, and Arthas's struggles ceased. The fight was over.

Klaus dropped the sword, panting. He heard screaming. The undead from below…

"Fordring, grab Sylvanas and Jaina, I have a way to get us out of here," Lofn commanded.  
"What about the rest of us, that are still below?!" Fordring demanded. Klaus glanced at him.

"If you want, you can stay here."

Fordring growled in anger, but realising that his sacrifice would mean for nothing, Fordring pulled both Sylvanas and Jaina up as best as he could, letting both of them lean together one on of his shoulders, while he grabbed his weapon with the other.

"To the hole!"

Klaus glanced around, trying to find Sualk. The bastard was nowhere to be seen. He must have escaped…

Lofn teetered at the edge of the cliff, seeing the drop that was nearly thousands of feet below them.

"Lofn, you psychotic bitch, you cant be seriously considering jumping."  
"Klaus, you have to trust me."  
"Trust you? TRUST YOU?! You put scarabs in my mind, changed the way I thought about everything, had sex with me while I was drunk, betrayed my trust on numerous occasions and now you want me to jump off this tower?!"

"YES! YES, I DO!"

Three Abominations broke through the door, letting out a mad squeal of rage, seeing the living in their presence, who quickly made a bum rush for them.

"Klaus, JUMP!"

Klaus took in a deep breath, his feet brushing against the ice, seeing the drop below. He shook his head, clearing his mind.

"Do I hate eldar…"

He took a foot off the ground, and held it in the air, and did so with the other. And with that, he fell.


	90. Chapter 89 The Ending (Pt3 Epi)

"I hate you."

"Shut up, and man da zoggin turret why dont ya?"

LIIVI rolled his eyes, as he continued to shoot at the eldar frigates that swarmed the void around them. Unkle let out a gleeful cackle, as he pushed on the throttle, letting the orkmobeel rocket forward. It was completely chaos, as both Necrons and Eldar fought over the derelict spacehulk the dimensional portal was based on.

"The eldar are sending everyfing they got! It's dere last shot at being relevant again since tabletop!" Unkle shouted, recycling the void shields as a energy lance struck the side of the modified land raider, shaking the entire craft.

"Why are you telling me this again?"

"I aint telling YOU dis, it's fer da readas!"

LIIVI rose an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Where did you get the necrons?"

"I promised Trazyn he culd get Eldrad's spiritstone if he helped me out wiff dis. I hope dis dont mean much to ya."

"As long as you provide what was bargained, then I will comply."

Unkle nodded, reaching into his pocket and rubbing the soulstone he kept in his pants. He smirked, as he went back to piloting the ship.

"Listen, LIIVI! Whateva happens, just know that I love you."

LIIVI did not turn, as he shot down another escort with the mounted turrets.

"Xeno, you are drunk. Are you sure you dont want me to pilot?"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT! We got one shot at dis, we gotta make it count! Nibbla, concentrate forward shields, full powa! LIIVI, target da plasma cannons, now!"

A roar of anger and Nibbla's squeal filled the intercom, as the void shields rippled across the Land Raider, while the dual plasma cannons fired, blowing a hole through the hull. The first wave of eldar troops had already made it through, while the second wave was in transit.

"We're going through! Once we get there, I'll focus on killin da eldar gits, you try ta find Eldrad! Chances are, Eldrad's with yer daughter!"

"Understood. My rifle?"

Unkle tossed LIIVI the oversized rifle, glancing back at the portal in the distance, and grinned.

"BOY OH BOY, IS IT TIME TO WAAAGH OR WHAT?!"

/

"Lofn, you psychotic bitch, you cant be seriously considering jumping."  
"Klaus, you have to trust me."  
"Trust you? TRUST YOU?! You put scarabs in my mind, changed the way I thought about everything, had sex with me while I was drunk, betrayed my trust on numerous occasions and now you want me to jump off this tower?!"

"YES! YES, I DO!"

Three Abominations broke through the door, letting out a mad squeal of rage, seeing the living in their presence, who quickly made a bum rush for them.

"Klaus, JUMP!"

Klaus took in a deep breath, his feet brushing against the ice, seeing the drop below. He shook his head, clearing his mind.

"Do I hate eldar…"

He took a foot off the ground, and held it in the air, and did so with the other. And with that, he fell.

Klaus angled himself downward, as he fell from the crooked spire that was Icecrown. His quest… was finally over. He had done it.

He glanced back at Lofn, who was quietly saying something, before at Fordring, who was screaming his ass off. Truth be told, he was kind of weighing his options on how he would spend the last moments of his life before he became a red stain.

Suddenly, there was a strange noise and a blue glow. Fordring had disappeared. Klaus's eyes darted back to Lofn, as suddenly, another figure appeared out of nowhere, grabbed the Eldar woman, and disappeared.

Warp Spiders… Eldar…

Then, the figure appeared right behind him. He felt two arms grab him around the chest, and suddenly, Klaus had disappeared too. He really saw nothing but a blue glow, and suddenly he was somewhere else.

He heard the noise again, and was tossed roughly on sweet, sweet… ground. The cold snow rubbed against his uniform and gloves, only for him to feel something cold and steely touch his chin. His head was forced up, and his eyes peered right into glowing red lenses. An eldar farseer, not unlike Lofn, but he could sense his psychic power was greater. Perhaps… this was her mother?

"So. This is the mon-keigh that has put me through so much trouble."  
Nope, definitely was a man eldar. Not like he could tell the difference all that well.

"Do you have any idea, mon-keigh… any idea how much you cost me?"

"This mon-keigh just wants to lay down and take a nap, and not deal with your shit."

The farseer did not say anything, simply lowering the blade. Klaus took this time to observe their surroundings. There were at least five more eldar, not including both Lofn and The Farseer he would have to guess was her grandfather. He knew barely anything of eldar, but he heard tales. They had different types of warriors, like there were different imperial guard regiments. Two of them were Warpspiders, while two more appeared to be what he assumed were "Dire Avengers". He assumed this from the slim armor, the brightly colored plumes that decorated their tall helmets, and the shuriken catapults he could not help but notice were pointed straight at him. The last one… he was not sure what exactly he was looking at. It looked similar to the Dire Avenger, but it's armor was bright orange and red, and it held what could be something like a melta in its hands. His gaze was forcibly turned back to The Farseer.

"I can sense your pitiful 'life' is coming to a close. I suppose the veil of secrecy is no longer needed."

/

Unkle ducked, the sound of whizzing shuriken fire filling the air. He growled, pulling out a grenade, pulling the pin, and throwing it. He knelt back down, poking at the holes in his left arm while growling.

"Nibbla, I need some covering fire, now! I need ta take down dose rangas!"

He heard a scream on his earpiece, as the Hive Tyrant stomped through a sheet of ice, letting out a vile scream as it attracted the attention of the eldar warriors. Unkle had loaned Nibbla a "modified carapace" was in reality a pair of assault cannons that fired upon receiving a chemical signal. The assault cannons open fired, turning a pair of aspect warriors into mush, while Unkle leapt over the barricade of rock, firing with his shoota at the rangers in the distance. He wasn't looking to hit them, only to buy more time.

Hundreds of shurikens flew their way towards Nibbla, as it continued to stomp forward, roaring. Unkle tossed aside his spent shoota, going to reach for his orkified shotgun.

"LIIVI, I'm neck deep in dese eldar gits, yer gonna have to move fast! I cant hold da breach for long!" Unkle shouted, as he unloaded his shotgun in a charging Howling Banshee, spraying the aspect warrior with hellfire pellets.

"I'm working on it. Focus on defending the portal."  
"Roight roight, i'm on it!" Unkle snapped, firing the shotgun again, unloading the clip. He managed to knab a few Dark Reapers before he had to duck down.

"Wish I had a second shoota, I do…"

Another barrage of assault cannon rounds tore into the eldar infantry, mulching a few Firedragons. Unkle snorted, tossing the shotgun aside to pull out a bolter.

"Yeah… forgot about you."

/

"I am Eldrad Ulthran. I will assume you have met my granddaughter. Now, pleasantries aside, I have to thank you mon-keigh, without you, this recolonisation effort would have been far more unforgiving."

Klaus paused, hearing that word, only to repeat it for clarity's sake: "Recolonisation?"

Eldrad said nothing, as he glanced over at where Lofn stood, somewhere behind him.

It took him some time to process what he meant, before he began to put the pieces together.

"So that's why you sent Lofn. Not only to test the compatibility here, but also because you thought of her as expendable. Better to waste the life of a hybrid than a trueborn."

"Now… you begin to see. All of this was orchestrated at my behalf. There was no prophecy, mon-keigh. You have been lied too. You all have. The death of The Lich King meant nothing to me really. It was getting rid of a powerful foe that would have wasted my time," Eldrad explained. Lofn had said absolutely nothing this entire time. Klaus gave her a sideways glare, and he could see that her face was completely red in shame.

"Don't think she was in this either. She was just as blinded as you were. Like all pawns, you must be rid of."

Klaus was pushed to the ground, hard. He didn't have the strength to get back up. Between the exhaustion of battle, the cursed wound in his gut and the wear and tear of this all, he could not do it. Eldrad hovered over him, as he spoke something in the eldar tongue towards one of his compatriots. After a few moments, a sword entered his view. Eldrad cast aside his own sword, grasping the new one tenderly. Lofn entered the picture, pushed along by one of the Dire Avengers, as Eldrad handed her the sword.

"Now, Lofn. There is one final test. One last test to become one of us. To prove your loyalty to the craftworld."

Eldrad glanced at him, and through his mask he smirked.

"Kill the mon-keigh."

There was nothing but silence for a few moments. Klaus only watched Lofn. She knew all eyes were on her, as she slowly took the blade from Eldrad.

"It is a Diresword of the highest quality. A single puncture is all it will need."

Lofn was quiet, her brown eyes darting between the sword in her hand, and Klaus's own eyes. He knew that she was conflicted.

"Lofn, just do it. Don't be a fool, like I was. Do not forsake what raised up from nothing," Klaus demanded.

"Even the mon-keigh agrees with it's own execution! Kill the mon-keigh, and let us be done with it."

"Scared to do it yourself, Eldrad? Are you too much of a pansy to put down a worthless being such as I?"

The farseer bored his eyes towards the guardsman, while he spoke in disgust.

"Not scared, I just would prefer to not get my hands dirty with your filth."

"You're not too much of a good looker either. Tell me, did it feel good when you felt your race die out so quick, all those years ago? Or were you too busy orgasming to care about your own extinction?"

Eldrad said nothing, but he was certainly angry. Klaus only knew of The Fall of the Eldar from when both Legion and Lofn told him about it. He had to cross reference their accounts to get the best picture.

"Hit a nerve, didn't I? For a race that is so high and mighty, you do seem to fuck things up for the rest of the younger races that has to clean up your mess."

"Lofn, kill this beast. Now. I tire of it's hooting."

Klaus glanced over at Lofn, who was still holding the Diresword in her hand, almost as if weighing it. She glanced down at Klaus, before up at Eldrad. She then stabbed the Diresword into the ground, before defiantly glaring at him.

"I will not do it."

Klaus was shocked. It seemed that Eldrad was less so.

"You don't have a choice. Kill the mon-keigh. Now."

Lofn shook her head again. The Dire Avengers turned their catapults to her.

"Very well, let me rephrase this: Kill the human, or I will kill you both."

"You would kill your own granddaughter?"

"Anything to save our people. Your life would merely be a stepping stone to greatness. Now, I'm going to ask you to reconsider your choice."

Lofn glanced at the sword in the ground, before back at Klaus. Klaus slowly reached for his knife, as she glared at Eldrad.

"I won't reconsider anything."

Eldrad crossed his arms over his chest, and snorted.

"Kill them both."

Klaus reacted immediately, plunging his knife deep into the nearest eldar ankle, this being one of the Dire Avengers. It let out a cry, as Klaus lunged at it, stabbing again and again, while Lofn let out a burst of energy, knocking down the eldar that surrounded her.

Klaus stabbed the Dire Avenger again and again, before he flipped around, using the body as cover from the shuriken fire coming from the other Avenger. Grabbing the xenos weapon from it's corpse, he pulled the trigger at the other avenger. The hailstorm of projectiles was dodged, as Klaus emptied the entire clip at the xeno, after which he threw the gun at the eldar warrior. It seemed that the eldar did not see that coming, and the gun was knocked out of its hand. Klaus managed to pull himself up only to lunge at the other eldar warrior, lunging with his knife. So distracted in this fight he did not even realise the fight between Lofn and the three remaining eldar warriors.

The two struggled over each other, as the Dire Avenger gave the guardsman a punch to the face. Klaus growled, spitting out a glob of blood.

"Alright you BASTARD!" He snarled, as he returned the favor by giving a brutal punch to its neck. The eldar's defences slipped just that much, only so he could shove the knife in its eye. Klaus heaved, as he was yanked off the body, and tossed to the ground. The orange warrior had caught him. It was about to fire upon the guardsman with it's gun, only for it's head to disappear in a cloud of red mist. Klaus blinked, only to see the smoking gun in the distance.

The black armor, red visor… that was an assassin alright.

Klaus gave an awkward wave. The assassin did not reply, only firing again to kill both of the warp spiders with two well placed shots.

Damn… he was good.

Klaus turned only to see Eldrad swinging the Diresword in an executioners arc towards Lofn, who barely dodged in time. Klaus quickly looked around for his sword, only to find it scattered away. Too far.

Klaus reached into his bag, pulling out his retractable shovel. Unfolding the thing, he let out a cry of anger, as he ran towards Eldrad, and swung. The farseer ducked underneath the blow, grabbing the guardsman collar and shoving him right onto the farseers sword.

Klaus let out a cry of pain, only to sneer in anger, as he gave Eldrad a headbutt so hard the farseers helmet cracked. Klaus slipped off the weapon, blood leaking from his fingers.

"Not again…"

Eldrad struggled to get up, only to be shot by the Vindicare. First in the leg. Then in the head. Klaus only had enough energy to spit on the farseers spirit stone before he passed out.

/

Two Days Later...

/

Klaus slowly opened his eyes. Groggy. Unclear. He had truly no idea, what he was thinking, or what was happening.

In the first twenty seconds he was awake, he saw two people. First, was Jaina. Second, was Bluddflagg. Both were surprised to see him open his eyes.

"Humie! Ya done did it!" Bluddflagg cried out, while Jaina went up to him and gave him a partial hug. Klaus blinked, somewhat confused.

"What… what happened?"

Bluddflagg grinned, showing off his collection of yellow and aging teeth.

"It's a long story humie. Point is, we had to drag yer ass from Northrend ta Dalaran."

"Teleported, actually."

"Whateva Prunemore!"

Klaus smirked a little bit, his hands reaching for his chest.

"Easy, Klaus. Don't tear the stitching."

"Stitching? You stitched it shut?"

"Not really. I had to call in a favor with the red dragons."

Klaus rose an eyebrow at the word dragons, before he snorted. All he would need to see are talking bears, and gryphons, and he would officially not give a shit anymore.

Jaina stood up from her seat, heading to the door.

"I'll go get us some tea."

"Oooh, ooh! Get me sum crumpets, why don't ya?" Bluddflagg suggested. Jaina merely smiled, as she left the room and closed the door behind her. The warboss turned to Klaus, snickering.

"So humie, yoo got yerself some noice scars eh? Care ta show?"

Klaus shook his head, sifting his hair with his hands

"Not really…"

He paused, glancing at Bluddflagg with a look of concern.

"Where is Legion? And Lofn?" To that, Bluddflagg shrugged.

"I dunno where eitha of them went. I don't have high hopes fer eitha of them. I fink Fordring knew wot happened to her but…"

"It's not of concern, for now at least…" Klaus mumbled. He glanced at Bluddflagg, and smirked.

"So… you got any stories to tell?"

Bluddflagg's face changed to that of surprise, before he smirked.

"Yeah… I do. Wanna hear?"

"I would like nothing more."

/

The morning sun shone bright, as Klaus was rechecking all of his gear. It had been three days since he awoke from his coma, . Powersword… check. Combat shield… check. Bolter… check. Ork…

Bluddflagg was handing off Klaus's stuff to him, while he too was rummaging through his own gear. Klaus noticed that one of the blades to his powa klaw had been cut off. The warboss was probably not happy about that.

"So humie. Goin off with dat Prunemore git?"

Klaus turned to face the ork, giving him a neutral glare.

"Proudmoore has an opening for bodyguard, assistant for research efforts, and a guardsman for destroying chaos wherever it goes. I do not think she can find a better candidate."

Bluddflagg gave the guardsman a toothy grin, one that turned into a somber frown.

"Ya know humie… I'm gonna miss ya."

"Admittedly… the time we had together was mildly pleasant. Though the time I will spend killing off any other future orks is something I don't look forward too."

Bluddflagg laughed, giving the guardsman a light clap on the back.

"I'm lookin forward to it. Yoo were fun ta foight wiff."

Klaus gave the warboss a curious glare, before back at the streets of Dalaran. They were out in the city square, by the many arcane towers that sprouted out from the stone streets of the floating city.

"So Bluddflagg… whats your plan?"

The ork huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'll foind out. Maybe I go out and kill some pasties in norfrend. Maybe I go back to lootin…" he then shrugged, smirking; "We'll foind out, won't we?"

"I suppose I will."

The two of them were quiet for a few minutes, each just staring at each other.

Priest Klaus was weeping quietly, while Grenadier Klaus rolled his eyes.

"It's just… it's just so sad!" He whispered, rubbing his gas mask lenses. Grenadier Klaus snorted, crossing his arms over his chest, flipping his hair in angst.

"Don't worry. He will be back for the sequel…"

Jaina walked out of one of the towers, fixing her robes and hoods. Klaus passed the opportunity to make a remark about her dressing like a cheap Valhallan whore, and instead focused on the important details at hand.

"Mistress, I assume we are ready to depart?"

Jaina smirked, and shook her head.

"Not until you meet my friend."

Klaus rolled his eyes, giving Jaina a poisonous glare.

"Another one of your wizard friends?"

To that, Jaina only smirked, as another figure exited the tower she had just came out of.

Klaus's eyes widened in surprise at who it was, dropping his power sword to the floor.

"Lofn?"

The half breed farseer stood there. Up the stairwell, giving Klaus a small smile. She rushed down the stairs, giving him a large hug. The guardsman did not know how to reply at first, but he replied in fashion.

"I thought you left with your father…"  
"He wanted me too, but I chose to stay… did… did you want to go back?"

Klaus took a moment to reply. He looked down at the farseer's head, nuzzled between his shoulder and chest, before at Jaina and Bluddflagg, who were standing there with small smiles.

He glanced down, before he smiled.

"Not a chance. However… I do think that for now we should part ways. I need time to forget. To forgive."

Lofn let go of the guardsman, nodding her head.

"I understand."

Jaina cast a teleportation rune underneath her. Bluddflagg took a few steps away, as the rune grew big enough for just the two of them.

"Klaus… do you need some time?"

Klaus ran his hand through Lofn's hair one last time, before patting her on the shoulder.

"Take care, farseer."

Lofn nodded in reverence, and the two of them shook hands.

"And to you, Kriegsman."

Klaus stepped into the teleportation rune, giving one last wave to the two xenos before he disappeared in a radiating glow.

/

EPILOGUE

/

The Lich King's frozen body laid before the throne that he used to occupy. His killers, long gone. The ancient helm that once controlled the undead prince no longer had a host. However, it would not experience this for long.

The Black Sorcerer, Ahzek Ahriman floated inside the room. He cared not for the dead body in front of him, only the crown that laid on its decaying head.

The lich's necrotic fingers grasped the cold steel crown, holding it in the air. In the reflection of the setting sun, the sorcerer could see himself. Gone was the man he once was, only now a power hungry pile of bones. Soon, he would transcend from the mortal plane and reign as a god.

"Power, demands, sacrifice," he whispered to himself, continuing to repeat the mantra, as he tore off his own helmet, tossing it aside. His horned helmet tumbled over the edge and down the clip, before being caught on one of the many pillars of sargonite that were embedded into the glacial structure.

Ahzek Ahriman let out a giggle. This giggle turned into a chuckle, before it devolved into mad cackles, as the crown of Ner'zhul wrapped around his bony head, sealing itself shut.

Gone was Ahzek Ahriman. Gone was the sorcerer, exiled from the thousand sons. Now, he was The Lich King. And soon, he would be much… much more.

/

Sylvanas Windrunner walked deeper. Deeper into The Undercity. Past the orc guards assigned by Thrall. She had taken several secret tunnels, heading to a part of the dungeons that officially, did not exist.

Awaiting her was Nathanos Blightcaller. Her trusted second in command. The bearded Forsaken saluted as she entered, to which she waved an armored encrusted finger.

"Tell me you did your job, and did it well."

"The dark ranger you assigned did her assignment, and more. Everything is going according to plan."

"I wish to see it," Sylvanas commanded. Nathanos nodded, and gave the signal to four other trusted Forsaken alchemists and spellcasters. They began to work, as dozens of enchanted skulls rose up from the ground, each releasing a blue beam of necrotic energy. Then from the floor, a large dais made from marble and black stone revealed itself. Sylvanas only grinned, as the thrashing figure revealed itself. Chained together with the most potent of magic, the banshee queen could only smirk as the bounty that eluded her for so long had finally be caught.

A roar of pure anger and rage was released from where it's mouth could be. The forsaken spellmasters winced in fear, and even Nathanos twitched. Only Sylvanas remained unfazed.

"So… Legion. How are your accommodations?"

The Damned Legionnaire said nothing in reply. She only chuckled, as she gave him a backwards wave.

"Begin the tests."

/

Unkle handed off two soulstones. One to a Necron Overlord, one to a heartbroken assassin. The two of them said their piece, before they left. The ork mek fixed his hat, and scratched his eye. It was quiet. Very quiet.

He let out a sigh, scratching his eyebrow, before he let out a snort.

"So… what now?"

There was no response.

"380k words… nearly 90 chaptas, and a lot of satisfied - er angry - readas."

No response.

"I suppose? Loike. Dere is gonna be annova un?"

"New name maybe? Loike… Kriegkraft: Cataclysm? Nah nah, wot about… Kriegcraft 2! Nah, thats just dumb."  
"Maybe… maybe make da book first? Epsilon Echo, look fer dat in a year or two, yeah? Nah…"

Unkle paused to look at the readers, and smiled.

"Well, it looks loike dis is da end. Maybe dere is going to be some big, aufas note that revolves around begging peepul fer fergiveness, talkin bout inspirations and aspirations fer da sequel? Or maybe da aufa is just gonna spend sum toime rantin, talkin all about how da sequel is gonna be comin soon but in reality is gonna be out by da time humies colonise mars?"

To this, Unkle shrugged.

"All I can say in dis, is that da aufa gives the most gracious of 'fank yas' ta everyun woo stuck around since uh… how do I say dis… Two… fousand and sexteen? Nah, sixteen! Yeah, there we go. Da aufa wishes that everyone who read dis… fing, I guess, a good time, and da aufa hopes that yer gonna stick around for da sequel! Dats all folks!"


	91. Alternate Endings

As Promised, The Alternate Endings.  
Ill post a general section of how thoughts making Kriegcraft and moving on.  
Enjoy.

Ending One  
The Lich King Ending

Explanation: This was actually the original ending. This is what I planned since Kriegcraft was supposed to be one story and that was all. I later decided to make a sequel, retiring this ending.

Klaus let out a deep breath, slowly taking off both his polter and plasma pistol. They were useless anyways, his only hope was his skill and his sword. The Lich King did not move, simply letting Klaus disarm himself. He stretched his arms, as The Lich King walked towards him.

" **I have seen you in battle, otherworlder. You are not from this planet, nor this dimension. I will give you a choice. Surrender, and serve me in life… or fight, and slave for me in death,"** He simply stated. Klaus huffed and puffed, slowly being filled with anger.

"I know who you are… Arthas. You lead your men to ruin and betrayed your father and your kingdom. I have broken many vows, but I will never serve a traitor!" He spat. To that, The Lich King brandished his sword as he came closer. He swung.

Klaus countered the blow, and nearly fell in exhaustion. He let out a pained cry, feeling his very energy being sapped from the blade. It was only a miracle that his blade did not shatter. Finally he pushed up, shoving The Lich King back a few steps. Klaus almost collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily.

" **Your will is strong like steel. Most could not survive such a blow,** " He commented, as he came back for another strike. It was slow, and telegraphed. It quickly became clear that… he was toying with him.

Klaus had enough stamina to block it again. He felt even more of his energy being drained, his skin cracking and bleeding in certain spots. The cursed blade dragged itself along his sword, letting out a horrific screech as it did. Klaus was lying on the ground now, breathing heavily. He would not have the energy to block the next one.

" **Your mortal form is frail. Weak. When I make you a Death Knight, you shall become strong… powerful...** " Arthas said slowly, as he walked up to Klaus. He put down an ice cold boot on his chest, and rose his cursed blade in the air.

"I will never be one of your, hollow puppets!" Klaus snapped, futilely struggling underneath the boot that kept him pinned.

" **I'm afraid you have no choice.** " He simply stated. Then, he plunged it.

Klaus let out a gasp, feeling the blade penetrate his armor like it was nothing. The cold and icy blade penetrated his skin, going through his torso, and then through the floor, nearly buried half way into the floor. His hands twitched, dropping his sword and letting out a weak mewling noise. So. This was the day. It was about time…

However, there was a screeching noise. Horrifically loud. A heldrake.

"Oh… you have to be kidding!" Klaus spat, blood bubbling from his lips. The heldrake burst through one of the walls to the throne room, letting out an awful howl as it's rider slid down, reaching the floor and drawing his daemonic weapon.

"Sualk…" Klaus hissed. The Lich King turned, ripping Frostmourne out of the prone guardsmans body. He let out a pained squeal. The pain he felt was perhaps the worst he could have possibly imagined, as he quickly reached for the wound that did not bleed, but instead froze. A deathly cold chill began to flow into his body, and he coughed violently.

Sualk simply frowned in anger, glaring at The Lich King.

"You hurt my brother. NO ONE. Does that, except for me…" He grinned. The Lich King glanced at Klaus, before back at Sualk, seemingly confused.

" **A brother?** "

"If he really was, I would frakking disown him the first chance I got!" Klaus shouted back at Sualk, as both he and the lich king turned to face him.

"Oh shut up Klaus, I'm the one saving your skin."

Sualk leapt into combat, with speed and grace that was inhuman. Their swords clashed with each other, daemon forged steel versus the chilling blade of Frostmourne. Each swing and thrust was countered by the other, as their blades clashed again and again. Klaus merely watched from the sidelines, trying to keep the ethereal chill that was slowly killing him at bay.

Just when things could not get even more convoluted, Klaus saw a figure enter through the doorway. Lofn.

The farseer only needed a moment to register what was happening, before she let out a burst of lightning from her fingertips. Arthas reflected the magick with the hilt of his blade, one that collided into Sualk, prompting a frenzy of spasms and seizures. Arthas merely smacked the demonic guardsman away, sending him sprawling to the ground. Lofn ran to Klaus's side, trying to bring him up.

"Klaus, I'm so sorry…" she whispered, putting one of her hands to the wound in his torso. The guardsman was heaving, looking up at the Lich King who only stood around ten feet away, simply observing both of them.

" **You are all nothing compared to me. Give in, and I will grant you mercy.** "

Klaus slowly rose up, standing to his full height, seeing that Sualk had also recovered his strength. Loathe to admit it, for the very short time frame, they had a common foe.

There was silence for a few moments. The Lich King merely brandished Frostmourne, entering a guard state.

"Circle around him. Together, we can beat him."

"Bold words, coming from a heretic."

"I don't see you doing anything, Brother."

Sualk, Klaus, and Lofn all circled the near demigod, who did nothing but shift his footing ever so slightly. Then, they attacked.

Sualk and Lofn were both the first ones to let loose projectiles. Caustic doom bolts and pure energy were let loose from their fingertips, rushing towards Arthas. A wall of thick blue ice shot up from the ground, absorbing the doom bolts blasts, while Arthas yet again deflected the bolt of energy with his sword. He released a cackling, sickly green skull from his sword. It collided into Sualk, who only raised up a demonic shield just in time to keep himself safe.

Klaus made it into combat, swinging his power sword in a decapitating arc. Arthas did not even bother to try and block it, instead of giving the guardsman a headbutt with his crown. Metal clashed against metal, and Klaus was momentarily stunned, only to be shoved aside by Arthas. Lofn swung with her staff, aiming right for his breastplate. It smacked it, doing nothing but create sparks. Arthas on the other hand retaliated with Frostmourne. Lofn rose the staff to block the blow, but the sword cleaved right through it. The sound of torn metal filled the air, and the impact sent her to the ground.

Sualk tried to impale the undead king with his daemon blade, but Arthas merely grabbed the weapon in his steely gauntlet. He yanked it out of his hand, only to cut Sualk's arm clean off, before impaling him with his own weapon, and punching him straight in the jaw. Sualk was dazed, while Arthas merely stabbed his own weapon in the ground, and grabbed the guardsman by the neck.

Klaus watched in awe as the Lich King held the guardsman up, before bringing him down on his armored knee. He winced, hearing the sound of bone breaking and flesh tearing, as the impact nearly tore him in two.

This had all happened in the span of nearly ten seconds.

Arthas tossed the body aside before his gaze settled on Lofn.

"You leave her alone you bastard…"

Arthas turned, seeing Klaus had brought himself back up once again.

" **Your fortitude is impressive. However, your foolishness is appalling.** "

"It's not foolishness, Arthas. It's bravery. Something you never had."

That certainly pissed him off, and he quickly changed his course. Klaus merely smiled, his ghastly pale face forming a grin, as the plasma pistol he had behind his back nuzzled the cold ice he was leaning on. The statue of fordring.

When Arthas was close enough, he fired. The blue plasma nearly made the ice evaporate, freeing Fordring from his icy prison.

Arthas paused, seeing the paladin was now free. Consciousness recovering quickly, Fordring let out an angry, hate filled cry.

Sword met Greatsword, as the two began to clash. The light imbued Fordring with great strength, as Klaus collapsed to the floor. He had used all of his strength, now he had nearly none of it left. Lofn quickly fell to his side, weeping quietly.

"Klaus… I tried to stop them."  
"Stop them? Stop who?

Fordring clashed with Arthas, again and again. Ashbringer against Frostmourne, enchanted blade against enchanted blade. They were almost equal in power, as the two skilled combatants parried and reposted their strikes. Klaus watched the spectacle in awe. The power of the light seemed too much for Arthas to handle, as time and time again, Fordring managed to get blows past him. The paladin swung his sword in an overhead slice, one that Arthas rose Frostmourne to parry.

The force of Ashbringer did not just push down the sword. It destroyed it. Like shattered glass, the runeblade was broken into thousands of shards, the only thing left of it is the grip and pommel. However, these shards shot outward with the force of a frag grenade, shredding the paladin. With a crash, the paladin fell to the ground, deceased.

Klaus let out a wheeze, trying to pull himself up. The quest had been completed. The goal finished. However, as he tried to stand, he heard something. A whisper.

 _There must always be, a Lich King._

Klaus glanced around, confused. However, as he heard the whisper again, he located the source. The pointed and steely crown on Arthas's head.

It slowly began to dawn on him what it meant. Someone had to control the fury of the undead. Though there could be a chance that the undead would become free like the Forsaken, it was a risk that could not be taken.

"Klaus, we need to get out of here, now! The undead will come for us soon!" Lofn demanded as she began to head towards the open ledge of the throne room. Klaus did not move, only looking at the crown. His face frowned underneath his gasmask, as he took a step toward the body of Arthas. And then another one.

"Klaus? Klaus!"

"Lofn, leave."

Lofn's face of confusion turned towards abject horror. Klaus felt her presence inside of his mind as he quickened his stride.

"Klaus, no! I can't let you do that!"

"Lofn, there must be someone who can halt the undead horde!" Klaus snapped, turning around to give her a furious glare, as he began to unfasten his helmet and gasmask, tossing them aside. Metal skittered against the ice, his mask slowly sliding towards the half breeds feet.

"And I won't let you stop me, eldar."

Lofn's hands flared with power, while Klaus slowly took out his pistol. Taking backwards steps toward the body.

Tears streamed down her eyes, as Klaus's feet hit the body.

"Please… don't."

Klaus stepped over the body, as his free hand grasped the edge of the helmet. The whispering became louder. More frenzied. It wanted him.

"There was never a choice."  
"KLAUS, NO!"

They both reacted. Lofn shot a ball of energy, with enough power to knock the human down. Klaus retaliated with a bolt of plasma. They both hit their targets.

Lofn's body hit the floor. After a moment, the stone on her neck glowed just a bit brighter. Klaus threw his pistol to the ground, swearing under his breath. He didn't want to do that… but she left him no choice.

As the whispers turned into screams, Klaus put the crown on his head.

/

It had been years. Decades, perhaps, since the Lich King had died. The world had forgotten Northrend, and though the memory of the atrocities committed by the scourge still remained, it had faded away with more relevant problems. The awakening of Deathwing, the discovery of Pandaria, the bombing of Theramore. He had heard them all.

Klaus sat upon his icy throne, tapping his ice encrusted fingers on the pedestal of his majesty. The voice of Ner'zhul had whispered to him for years. Influencing him. Changing him. However, the defiant spirit of the guardsman still remained. The undead kriegsman had given his soul to save the world. Yet… no one knew it. But that was okay. There were trillions of heroes the Imperium would never hear of. What difference did it make if he was one of them?

However, Klaus had decided that there needed to be action. He would not sit on the sidelines any longer.

"My king."

Klaus glanced to his left. One of his more powerful servants, the undead farseer known as Lofn. Her once pale and fair skin was now grey and clammy, and her soft brown eyes were now a deep shade of necrotic blue. With his new found powers of necromantic magic, Klaus had managed to bring her back to life. Though she tried to end herself a few times before, now she was nothing but her slave. Free will was not something that his agents needed.

"The liches of Scholomance have been recalled. Our armies have been strengthened by the conflicts. We only await your command."

Klaus stood up from his throne, grabbing the frosty blade that was his power sword. His botos echoed across the ice, as he slowly approached the ledge of Icecrown. His army awaited him. Millions of undead, of all species and all kind. United under his rule. An echoing howl filled the land, as his servants cried out as he did.

" **Very well. Gather my generals. We shall make our march towards the living. Humanity will reign supreme. Whether they like it, or not. The xenos will grovel beneath my feet. They will all be exterminated, like the rodents that they are. We shall create a new terra, under the grace of the God Emperor."**

"As you wish, my liege."

Lofn began to walk away, as Klaus only watched over the frozen landscape that had become a home away from home. Underneath the enchanted helmet, Klaus only smirked.

" **Glorious…** "

Restart Ending  
Explanation: This ending was one of the "AU" endings. I had a few of these planned, but this is the one I liked the most.

"Kill them both."

Klaus reacted immediately, plunging his knife deep into the nearest eldar ankle, this being one of the Dire Avengers. It let out a cry, as Klaus lunged at it, stabbing again and again, while Lofn let out a burst of energy, knocking down the eldar that surrounded her.

Klaus stabbed the Dire Avenger again and again, before he flipped around, using the body as cover from the shuriken fire coming from the other Avenger. Grabbing the xenos weapon from its corpse, he pulled the trigger at the other avenger. The hailstorm of projectiles was dodged, as Klaus emptied the entire clip at the xeno, after which he threw the gun at the eldar warrior. It seemed that the eldar did not see that coming, and the gun was knocked out of its hand. Klaus managed to pull himself up only to lunge at the other eldar warrior, lunging with his knife. So distracted in this fight he did not even realize the fight between Lofn and the three remaining eldar warriors.

The two struggled over each other, as the Dire Avenger gave the guardsman a punch to the face. Klaus growled, spitting out a glob of blood.

"Alright, you BASTARD!" He snarled, as he returned the favor by giving a brutal punch to its neck. The eldar's defenses slipped just that much, only so he could shove the knife in its eye. Klaus heaved, as he was yanked off the body, and tossed to the ground. The orange warrior had caught him. It was about to fire upon the guardsman with its gun, only for its head to disappear in a cloud of red mist. Klaus blinked, only to see the smoking gun in the distance.

The black armor, red visor… that was an assassin alright.

Klaus gave an awkward wave. The assassin did not reply, only firing again to kill both of the warp spiders with two well-placed shots.

Damn… he was good.

Klaus turned only to see Eldrad swinging the Diresword in an executioners arc towards Lofn, who barely dodged in time. Klaus quickly looked around for his sword, only to find it scattered away. Too far.

Klaus reached into his bag, pulling out his retractable shovel. Unfolding the thing, he let out a cry of anger, as he ran towards Eldrad, and swung. The farseer ducked underneath the blow, grabbing the guardsman collar and shoving him right onto the farseers sword.

Klaus let out a cry of pain, only to sneer in anger, as he gave Eldrad a headbutt so hard the farseers helmet cracked. Klaus slipped off the weapon, blood leaking from his fingers.

"Not again…"

Eldrad struggled to get up, only to be shot by the Vindicare. First in the leg. Then in the head. Klaus only had enough energy to spit on the farseers spirit stone before he passed out.

/

Klaus slowly opened his eyes. Groggy. Unclear. He had truly no idea, what he was thinking, or what was happening.

The sound of gunfire filled the air. Mortars screaming as shells the size of cars flew across the grey and red sky. He slowly pulled himself up, looking around in confusion. The earth around him was black and covered with ash. It almost looked like a twisted version of a forest, with ruined buildings as trees, charred bodies, and ruined vehicles as the undergrowth, and the blue bolts that shot through the air like comets in the night sky.

Beside Klaus was his boltgun. Cleaned… polished. As he reached for it, he heard a familiar shouting. Orks.

He loaded the weapon, turning on a dime. Up ahead he could see a mob of around five greenskins, searching through the rubble. They talked to each other in a manner of grunts, groans, and snarls.

"Greenskin filth! Over here!" Klaus roared, pointing his bolter straight at them. The orks turned their heads at him in confusion. After the second headshot, they actually realized the threat, and roared in anger, charging towards him with their choppas in the air, swinging them around. None of them actually made it that close.

"What happened?"  
"I have no clue… but this seems real. Klaus… we're home."

Klaus looked down at himself, reaching for where the scars from his impalements should have been. Nothing. Nothing but a faint scratch. Was it… a dream?

No… the memories in his head… they were real. They happened. He was sure of it.

The sound of gunfire and orks roaring made the guardsman duck for cover. Like it or not… he was home again. At least… in a way. Now that he thought about it… where were the imperium? Were they even here?

It didn't matter anymore. It was what he wanted for so long… no horde, alliance, undead. Just him, and a gun, and some xenos.

As he blew off an orks arm before punching a hole in a ork boyz neck, this thought rang in his head, over and over again. He was free. Free from Azeroth. Free from the machinations of the eldar, of the dark gods, of everyone. Now… he was home. Whether he died or not, it meant nothing to him anymore.

As the roar of Valkyries flew overhead, Klaus just kept on shooting. Tears of joy welled up in his eyes, bathing in the glory of fighting for the imperium once more.

/

Klaus sat in a completely blank room, the only objects in said room being a table, a pair of chairs, and a pair of handcuffs that chained him to said chair. Klaus had been in here for hours, simply waiting.

It turns out the place he had ended up on was… Armageddon. Strangely. He was quickly interrogated and taken in, no surprise there.

In Front of him was an Armageddon Lieutenant, sitting across from him. His face was obscured by the gasmask that was clasped firmly on his head. Neither of them had spoken since they both got here.

"So. You are 652733-172948. Yes?"

"This is correct."

"You were last noted in action nearly fifty years ago. Mystikos Prime. Is this correct?"

"Yes."

"And according to your… account, you were absorbed into a warp anomaly that sent you into what you describe as 'another universe in which The Imperium of Man did not exist, and where humans coexisted somewhat peacefully with xenos, and you were fighting against both chaos, undead and a clone of yourself. You also admitted to working with xenos from both the alternate universe and this one. Is this correct?"

"Yes."

The investigator glanced at the clipboard in his hand, scratching something off with a pencil.

"As hard as it is for me to say, I believe you. The average clone's lifespan is only around fifty years, and the specimen expires around sixty. You are aged around eighteen, according to your records. You were listed KIA nearly half a century ago in Mystikos Prime. So now you are wondering what happens next. Is this correct?"

"Yes."

"After contacting the Death Korps of Krieg, they demanded that you be turned over for immediate questioning and extermination. However, you are technically under the Armageddon Steel Legions jurisdiction. And your fate falls under me. Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

The investigator scratched his chin for a moment, before looking straight into Klaus's soul.

"Despite your actions, you have admitted to being a heretic. You have blasphemed under the grace of the god emperor. However, I do not believe you are a traitor. A heretic, absolutely," he said, pulling out a laspistol and leaving it on the table.

"Tell me, Klaus. If I told you would never leave this room alive, would you kill me? Would you try to shoot me and escape this complex?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I have failed as a guardsman."

"I see…"

There were a few moments of silence before the investigator spoke again.

"Great turmoil is coming, Klaus. You will be sent along with the Krieg 23rd to Cadia. Perhaps in death, the emperor shall see whether you are fit to join him."

"Thank you."


	92. Author Thoughts

Hey guys. Time for that reflection that I promised. This is going to be a bit more personal than my author notes. I'm going to be talking mainly about three things.  
Inspirations for Characters / Character Arcs  
Things I liked and things I regretted doing  
And thoughts/plans moving on.

Let's get started

Klaus: The main character of Kriegcraft, pretty self-explanatory. Now, Klaus was actually not the first main character I thought of, rather the last. See, Kriegcraft was originally going to be a Warhammer x Starcraft crossover. Focusing mainly on the plot between Starcraft 1 and brood war. I changed it to Warcraft for a few reasons. First, it allowed me to write more about characters than set pieces, something I enjoyed doing more. Second, I was more familiar with Warcraft lore than Starcraft, and third, It would be easier to manage things happening on one planet compared to an entire sector. Even then, Klaus went through a variety of designs, all which I would be happy to show and discuss. These are  
A: A Lamenter Tech Marine  
B: A Cadian Kasrkin  
And finally C: A DKOK Grenadier.  
The first draft was quite literally a carbon copy of _God of Death_. I noticed this pretty quickly and scrapped the draft. However, I did want to put in a Lamenter character as A. Lamenters are the best fucking chapter, I'll fight you over it and B. Another Imperial character that wasn't just a regular human would have been nice. However, I decided against it mainly because the main reason why I never really enjoyed _God of Death_ and most other Warhammer crossover fics is simply due to how over the top Warhammer is. This ties directly into how most crossover fics inevitably turn into "ha ha Warhammer is better" while they stomp out everything into oblivion. Seeing how I played Warcraft 3 and a little bit of WoW vanilla before I even knew what a Space Marine was, I could kind of understand why people would not like when it becomes a superiority thing. And a space marine character was the fastest way to make such a thing happen. I struck a middle ground in Legion, him being an ultra-powerful demigod while at the same time rarely ever showing up since he feels that he is usually not needed beyond snarky jokes. Next, Klaus was supposed to be a Cadian Kasrkin. However, I felt that this was a bit too "basic" as Cadia is the poster boy of the Imperial Guard. I settled with the Death Korps of Krieg because, at the time of writing it, they were still mildly obscure and not as popular as they are today. Of course, this never really stopped Kriegcraft from being labeled "Another DKOK fic…" along with other derogatory things. Not that I particularly care, because Kriegcraft in my eyes is a bad fanfic. Most are, and I don't think there is much shame in that. However, I do want to improve, and I can only do it with your help. Now, I am going to regard the whole issue of "The silent deathseeker is developing a character" part. Truth be told, if Klaus was nothing but a stoic and completely xenophobic murderer, I would have gotten bored fast. I tried to strike another middle ground by still making him have this personality, but slowly wane over time. I do want to say that while yes, It is lore breaking to do such a thing, I only have two things to say. 1. When was GW lore ever consistent? And 2. It is considered Fanfiction.

Lofn: Lofn, the strong female eldar who don't need any Mon-keigh. Lofn was an… odd character. Both reviled by some and loved by others. Truth be told, I didn't really know how to handle her. Originally I tried to write her as just a regular elder who wasn't as asshole-ish as written in GW. This quickly devolved, however, as I wanted to make a mildly comedic yet romantic interest in Klaus. I regret this, in some forms. One of my biggest regrets was chapter 69, which is what I will get into in a later bit. Lofn was pretty much unchanged from the first draft.  
Bluddflagg and da boyz: Bluddflagg wasn't actually supposed to be in the fic. It was actually supposed to be Gorgutz Head Hunta. However, I changed this due to the fact I was a lot more familiar with Dawn of War 2: Retribution than I was with the Dawn of War 1 Campaign, meaning I could emulate Bluddflagg a lot easier than Gorgutz. Also, I personally liked Bluddflagg more. Bluddflagg was supposed to be designated comedic relief, which I feel like that succeeded without too much of a hitch.

Nebetaruk: Nebetaruk really didn't have to be in Kriegcraft. Really, the only reason he was even PRESENT was simply due to a review I read, that said basically "Wouldn't it be funny if Necrons were in here?" and I said to myself "Fuck yeah it would, let's DO IT!" and… there you go. I kinda didn't give him too much of a spotlight simply due to the fact I never found Necrons very interesting, to begin with. However, I do want to give him a bigger spotlight in Cataclysm, which he certainly will.

Sualk: Sualk was supposed to be the opposite of Klaus. Sualk was only really created once I decided to make a sequel, as a frontman for the operations of Chaos. I will admit I kind of forced him in when it could have been better to insert him at the beginning of Cataclysm. Cataclysm will feature the duality between Klaus and Sualk prominently, including a battle that will raise the stakes significantly.

Legion: As I said before, I intended Legion to be a combination of a mentor to Klaus and the badass of the group, and as a more… prominent feature of Cataclysm. Regarding the reveal of him being Sanguinius, I did hint at him being a primarch earlier (well, revealed it really) but originally it was supposed to be Leman Russ. I changed it due to the fact I just like Sanguinius more.  
Unkle: Unkle is an… interesting character. Really, I just had him more as a plot point and a source of fourth wall breaking jokes. He was also the dispenser of throwing in more weapons and more ways to kill people. Fun overall.  
These are just the main characters, by the way. There will be a few new additions to the central cast over the span of Cataclysm, including two new characters from the Warhammer Universe. I won't spoil it but… let's just say some plotlines won't be unresolved for now.  
Onto the stuff, I regret doing. Three major things were  
The Nightbringer  
Chapter 69 / Nanoscarabs

The first ten chapters.  
Ignoring Reviews

I seriously regret writing The Nightbringer as I did. Though I tried to rectify this, later on, I wish I didn't write him as another source of comedy, as I already had enough of that. This is the most minor… major, grievance I had. Now, onto the really controversial part.

LEMONS. In all seriousness, I fucking hate this chapter. I hate this chapter more than I hated the first ten or so chapters of Kriegcraft. When I posted it, I only really did it to confirm a ship that was a long time coming. However, as time went on I realized it only made things worse. It made an already rocky relationship become borderline toxic, and made a lot of people pissy (though whether it's real or not I can't say) and I do regret making it. Or rather, asking someone to make it for me because I can build skyscrapers better than talking about sex. This ties somewhat into the Nanoscarab plot. Originally, this was just a way to bullshit how Klaus's feelings about things were changing. However, writing this basically stuck me in a large box with no hope of escape, so rather than retcon either of these things I am simply going to stick to my guns and try to make Cataclysm somewhat more enjoyable.

The first ten chapters of this fic are bad. Like, really bad. I don't know how many times I told my friends to read this fiction, only to say "Glaze over chapter 1 - 10". As so, I will be trying to reupdate these chapters to make them less… garbage. I will post a review whenever a chapter is updated. I will be deleting every Author Note after this is posted, so you guys can have a true, and conclusive story.  
Finally, ignoring reviews. I started doing this around chapter 40, where some negative reviews began to pile up. At first, I was mainly afraid to read them or discuss them. I realize now that was a pretty dumb move on my part, and as so I won't be doing the same thing again. Starting with chapter three of Cataclysm, I will be addressing every review that is formatted as a question, while giving a few word replies to everything else. Reviews are the most direct way you guys can contact me. (Besides well… adding me on discord as a friend, invite on my profile or just private message me)

Now, onto plans. I am not looking forward to Cataclysm, mainly due to the fact of the whole shenanigans with the dragon soul and time travel. Which is why I won't actually go down this pathline. You can officially consider Kriegcraft: Cataclysm Alternate Universe, because most events in Cataclysm the expansion either won't happen or will be modified. NO ACCUSATIONS OF CARBON COPIES NOW SUCKERS.  
I am still working on my novel, which is well… taking its time. I do think you guys will enjoy it, and I will keep you posted on progress. So far I am around 30% done with it. Still, a long way to go, I am aware.

So… that's all I really have to say. There will be no further posts on Kriegcraft. It will be complete as it is. I do implore all of you readers to PLEASE, favorite and follow Cataclysm, as well as leave reviews. This helps me as an author and you as a reader, so we can correlate what happens together as well as show engagement. Overall, I just have to say thanks. I never planned for Kriegcraft to succeed, and thanks to you guys, you helped it happen.


End file.
